Ian 2
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This is a continuation of my AU story, Ian. In it, Castle had married Kyra, not Meredith. They had a son Ian, but Kyra died when he was an infant. That strongly impacted Castle's personality. Ian is a talented artist, but has learning disabilities related to reading. Castle and Kate are now married and Kate is pregnant. CastleFicathonWinter 2017 entry
1. Chapter 1

Ian 2

Chapter 1

Kate was restless. More than restless, she was verging on desperate. At first, it hadn't been that bad to be confined to bed except for an occasional very short walk to the bathroom. She'd spent a lot of time on the phone with Ryan and Esposito receiving updates from the precinct. Rick had set up a gaming system at her bedside so that she could continue to play the role of a warrior princess in virtual battles. Both Castle and Ian had brought her culinary delights. She'd also been pleased to pose for Ian as part of a project for his pre-college program at the School of Visual Arts, especially since he'd sworn to draw her only from the shoulders up. She'd even become addicted to soap operas besides Temptation Lane. She was determined to do everything she could to make sure Amelia to remained in utero for as close to forty weeks as possible. But now a serial killer was out there, and as far as she knew, the police weren't even close to catching him. She longed to join the hunt.

She was doing the best she could. Castle had purchased a whiteboard on wheels that could be scooted up next to the bed. Ryan sent her crime scene photos, and Lanie kept her updated on whatever she found in her autopsies. She regularly brainstormed with Rick as new bits of evidence trickled in, but the killer was careful, pathologically so. There had been no fingerprints and no DNA. There weren't even any fibers.

The absence of evidence was in itself a clue. He or she would have to have been wearing gloves. Their hair would be shaved or tightly confined and their clothes free of anything that could be shed. Rick had grimly joked about an alien in a spacesuit, and the idea hadn't sounded entirely impossible. He came in and clipped a sketch to the board. "Ryan just sent this to me so I could print it out for you. It looks like there may finally be a witness. The cops aren't releasing this to the public yet because the source may be unreliable. It comes from a homeless guy who goes by Westside Wally. He's been evaluated a couple of times by shrinks who volunteer for shelters where he's slept. He's harmless, but not always firmly rooted in planet earth. So, it is possible that the fellow in the sketch originated more in his imagination than from his memory.

Kate's lips trilled as she blew a frustrated breath through them. "Great!"

"It's still the first hint we have of how our killer looks. That hood pulled tight around his head is consistent with what we know so far. Ryan told me that Wally said that the suspect's hands were shiny black. That could mean he was wearing gloves. And the killer whistled when he cut the victim's throat. Wally thought it was a gospel song, "Power in the Blood."

Kate's brows rose. "That's bizarre, assuming that it actually happened."

"Well, something happened," Castle pointed out. "The victims' throats were slit. Someone did it."

Kate regarded the sketch. "That's an interesting scar."

"It's a throwback," Castle noted. "A scar on the cheek like that used to be regarded as proof of living through a saber battle. Duelers used to rub salt in the wound to make the scar more prominent."

"So, if this is our killer, he participated in a duel with sabers?" Kate wondered.

"Or wanted to look like he did," Castle suggested. "He certainly has a thing for sharp objects. Didn't Lanie say that each victim was killed with a different blade? Maybe he collects them."

"Oh, wait a minute!" Kate interjected. "That ties in with something else Lanie that told me. The metal traces found in some of the wounds were from crude alloys, not nearly as pure as modern metals. That would make sense if our killer collects antique weapons. Maybe Wally really did see the guy in the sketch. It would give us an entirely new trail to follow. How many collectors like that can there be in New York?"

"More than you'd think, I would imagine," Castle replied. "From the fan letters I've received, there are a lot of people with obsessions about lethal pointy things."

"I won't even speculate on the psychology of that," Kate responded, "but if there are that many, there must be collecting clubs or something."

Castle nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets. "A lot more than clubs; magazines, forums, boards, and blogs. This guy could be a subscriber or even put out any one of them."

"That will be a lot to sift through," Kate acknowledged, "but it's not as if I have anything better to do while keeping Amelia from trying to greet the outside world too early."

"I'll help as much as I can," Castle volunteered, "But I have a deadline looming, and I have to keep the literary fires blazing." He consulted his watch. "Ian had an animation class at SVA after school today, but he should be home any minute. He's been studying weapons, to inject more accuracy into his battle scenes. I hate to get him too involved in this, but there's no one left in New York anymore who doesn't know about the murders, and he may have encountered some resources that have yet to penetrate our sphere of knowledge. As soon as he finishes inhaling half the contents of the refrigerator, we can ask him."

* * *

Ian ran a hand through his stubbornly unruly hair. "Sites where people like to talk about swords and knives and stuff, yeah, I've been to a lot of 'em. When I play the comments with my voice generator, some of them can sound really creepy."

Kate looked up at him. From pictures she'd seen of his mother, Kyra, she had been tiny, so Kate wouldn't have expected Ian to end up as tall as Rick. But the teenager's growth spurt had kicked in not long after she and Rick were married. However, the genes had combined, Ian looked like he might shoot up past his father any day, possibly any minute. "Is there a site that's creepier than the others?" she queried.

Ian closed his eyes for a moment as he mentally played back the postings he'd heard. "There is one, mostly because one guy leaves comments there a lot. He's always talking about how a blade serves no function if it doesn't draw blood, and how spirits enter the weapons through blood. Some of the weapons collectors call him 'The Bloodluster.'"

"What does he call himself?" Castle asked.

"The Spirit Seeker," Ian replied. "It's way too cool a name for such a creepy guy."

"With you there," Castle agreed. "Thanks, son. Oh, and there was a delivery for you today. It's in my office. You should grab it before you go upstairs."

"Alright! That's my new printer. It uses brighter inks that really make the characters pop. They're waterproof too, so I can make posters and stuff that can go outside."

"How much of your allowance did that take?" Castle asked.

"That's the best part, Dad. None of it, except for shipping. I traded some of my new drawings that I listed on Vetsy, for it."

Castle unconsciously squared his shoulders as his chest expanded. "My son, the entrepreneur. Good deal. I look forward to seeing what your new equipment turns out."

"You know, he really is amazing, Castle," Kate marveled after Ian had left her bedside."

"I know," Castle agreed, "and the most unbelievable thing is that he's my kid. So, what do you want to do about tracking down Spirit Seeker?"

"Everything I can, Castle."


	2. Chapter 2

Ian 2

Chapter 2

Theresa patted her tight gray curls and sniffed. "I don't know what that husband of yours is thinking." She waved a hand at the murder board. "That thing shouldn't be in here. You should be resting."

"Aunt Theresa, my doctor said it's all right as long as I stay in bed. And anyway, I was going crazy without something useful to do. I'm embarrassed by how involved I was getting with the intrigues in Spruce Valley."

"Personally, I thought it was wonderful when Jerry stopped sleeping with Monica and went back to Chloe," Theresa remarked. "Chloe has suffered so much."

"And the audience along with her," Kate noted drily. "It is nice to have you stay with me while Castle is at his meeting. I haven't had much company except for Rick, Martha, and Ian - and Dad when he can make it over here. Besides Lanie, most of my friends are cops. They're up to their ears in the murders right now, and she's swamped too. That's another reason I'm trying to help with the case. But tell me what's happening with the family. What's new with cousin Allie?"

Theresa pressed her thin, bright red lips together and shook her head. "Honestly Katie, I don't understand why her mother doesn't keep a tighter rein on that girl. She's tinted her hair three different colors in three months, and she dragged home a boyfriend who looks like the wild man of Borneo. It's like we're back in the sixties. No doubt barbers will go extinct any moment now. I suppose that fancy haircut Richard has comes from one of those men's salons."

"Actually, it comes from a hair stylist who did his mother's hair for the theater when Rick was growing up. Castle was backstage so much that Eduard started cutting his hair too. Eduard also does the best he can with Ian."

Theresa clicked her tongue while shaking her head. "A boy who devotes all his time to drawing superheroes. Don't young people want to do anything useful these days?"

"He does!" Kate protested, her ire rising even more at the criticism of her stepson than her husband. Ian spends a lot of Sunday afternoons at a homeless shelter drawing characters for the kids there. He brings a little fun into their lives, which is more than most people do. It's a little like when Rick's books got me through my mother's death." Kate drew herself up against her pillows, eyes flashing. "Both Castle and Ian use their talents to make people happy, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Theresa reached out to pat her niece's hand."Now Katie, stop upsetting yourself. Settle down, and I'll get you some juice. I brought you some fig cookies you can have with it; your Nonna's recipe."

Kate drew a calming breath. "Fine! Thank you. That would be nice."

* * *

Castle stood for a moment outside the office complex that housed Black Pawn, trying to get his thoughts together. Gina wanted him to put out a bunch of mini-books, the way Patterson was doing. It wasn't a bad idea, really, to give readers something they could stick in their back pocket or shove in a purse, so they'd have something to read that wouldn't drain a battery. The problem was that Patterson's publisher employed a stable of co-writers. Rick did not doubt that Patterson supervised, but there was no way that the big man was pounding out the stories all by himself. Black Pawn was not big enough to afford that kind of staff, especially with the declining sales of hardcover books. Castle would be doing all the writing himself, and Gina wanted a new offering at least every three months, preferably more often. That would mean spending a lot more time at his word processor and having fewer hours available to help Kate. Fortunately, it would be a couple of weeks before Gina wanted to see his first few chapters. That would give him a little breathing room. He checked his phone for messages and emails. There was nothing that couldn't wait. The time display read 11 A.M. Unless he wanted to spend an hour or two sparing with Kate's Aunt Theresa, staying away from the loft a little longer would not be an unattractive prospect.

While he had the chance, he could do something about tracking down the elusive Spirit Seeker. Ryan had tried his best, but the potential suspect's postings had come from wi fi networks all over the city, and there was no way to trace the screen name. Castle had another tack in mind. There was a private club near Black Pawn where the members had groups that engaged in a number of eclectic interests. Ancient weaponry was one of them. Admission was restricted, but as a best-selling author, Castle stood a good chance of being added to the roles or at least being permitted guest privileges. If Spirit Seeker had set foot in the place, that meant that he had money. That was not unlikely. Collecting genuine antiques of any stripe was not a cheap hobby. Castle had checked. Some collectors paid exorbitant sums for blades with interesting provenances. It would take luck, but he might be able to pick up a clue to the killer's identity. The scar on the man's cheek could not go unnoticed.

* * *

When Castle saw the swords mounted on the wall in the reception area of "The Forge," he was even more anxious to be allowed behind the heavy and intricately carved doors that blocked access into the rest of the exclusive establishment. He filled out the paperwork to receive a temporary pass to gain admission until the membership committee could meet to rule on his worthiness. The process reminded him of filling out financial aid forms for college, only even more intrusive. He wondered if The Forge would ask for his tax returns. Rick finally handed back the clipboard. Before disappearing into the inner sanctum, Brendon Halsey, the balding man behind the desk, told Castle to take a seat and that he'd return in a few minutes.

The chair into which Castle sank, had the scent and feel of old leather. He settled into its depths with relief and pulled out his phone to scan through the emails he'd put off reading. His agent had forwarded several invitations to mystery buff conventions around the country. Paula should have known enough to turn them down, but she was always hopeful she could pry more appearances out of him. He loved meeting his fans, but he wasn't going further than the outer boroughs - if that far - until Amelia was born. And he expected to stick pretty close to home for at least the first few months after that, depending on the health of Kate and the baby. He didn't want to stray far from Ian either. Castle had gotten into enough trouble in his own teen years for lack of any consistent male guidance. He wasn't about to make that mistake with his son. He instructed Paula decline everything out of town, until future notice.

After twenty minutes, Halsey returned, bearing an ornate badge, which he handed to Rick. "This is good for one month, Mr. Castle, and you will be receiving an invoice. You may enter. The gathering area will be immediately on your left. One of our most distinguished members, Mr. Price, is there, and he will give you a tour of the rest of the facilities. Halsey pushed open one of the doors and motioned Castle inside.

Castle immediately spotted Price by a badge edged in what appeared to be gold leaf. Though white-haired, and with the passage of time clearly visible on his face, Price's shoulders and biceps were massive. Castle immediately pictured him swinging a broadsword. Rick wondered what other interesting characters his visit to The Forge would reveal.


	3. Chapter 3

Ian 2

Chapter 3

Price's ice blue eyes raked up and down Castle's frame. "Halsey asked me to give you the grand tour, Mr. Castle. The Forge is far from the usual gentleman's club. There is no room devoted to discussions of the intricacies of the market, over brandy and cigars. Nor do we have what at other clubs are euphemistically referred to as playrooms. We are adventurers, and the facilities here support those pursuits."

"I make my living portraying adventure, Mr. Price," Castle responded. "What you describe sounds fascinating."

"Then follow me," Price instructed. Castle suppressed a shudder when Price opened the door to a room where the walls were festooned with animal trophies. "Humans are predators, Mr. Castle. And in the view of the members of The Forge, that is a positive attribute. Many of us are hunters. We take down the weak, strengthening the herd. Performing the function for which we were created, strengthens us as well."

"How does that work?" Castle asked.

"I'll show you," Price replied, leading the way to another door. Part of the floor of the cavernous room inside was covered with mats. Kendo sticks and fencing paraphernalia were on display, as were a variety of other swords and blades. Two men were in the midst of a battle with quarterstaffs. "We hone our fighting skills to triumph in nature and also against each other."

"You don't use guns," Castle queried.

"No. There is little challenge involved with that. We do use both the crossbow and the longbow. Most of us prefer the longbow because greater degree of mastery is required." Price led the way to a gym featuring free weights and a sparring ring. "This is our workout area. We have certified trainers on staff." Price appraised Castle again. "Your upper body strength doesn't look too bad, especially for someone in as sedentary a profession as yours. There is a great deal of work you could do on your core. Mike can instruct you on that. He arrives later in the day for members who come in after work."

"And what profession do you pursue, Mr. Price?" Castle inquired.

"My family has dealt in meat packing for several generations. My work now is largely advisory, but I still maintain butchering skills. I keep my own blades for the purpose, and I sharpen them myself. I also assist our chef on occasion."

Price led Castle down a hallway to swinging metal doors. "This is our kitchen. Many members bring their game here to be dressed and served. Some of our members are also skilled in other means of living off the land. Our chef develops recipes employing wild mushrooms, ramps, purslane, and a variety of other edible plants."

"If he's cooking wild mushrooms, he'd better know what he's doing. I've used those as murder weapons in two of my books." Castle remarked.

Price slapped Castle on the back. "I can assure you he does. We haven't had a member bite meet his maker here yet, at least not from the food."

"What do you mean not from the food?"

"We did have a member collapse during training," Price explained. "An undetected aneurysm burst. He was dead before the paramedics could arrive. But it could have just as easily happened on the subway, or worse, behind the wheel of a car. He went out fighting. That is how we would all prefer to exit this earthly plane."

Castle could think of two ways he would rather die, the second being of old age, but he kept his opinion to himself and shifted the subject. "Mr. Price, as I understand it, The Forge has special interest groups. I'm particularly interested in the one on ancient weaponry. I'm exploring the subject for one of my books."

"You are correct, Mr. Castle. The groups meet in the gathering area. In fact, I believe the weapons group is on the schedule for tomorrow night, if you would like to attend."

"Yes, Mr. Price, I would enjoy that very much indeed."

On the sidewalk outside The Forge, Castle took a deep breath. Certain that Kate would be more than ready for a rescue from her Aunt Theresa's ministrations, he was anxious to return to the loft. But he needed to make a stop along the way. He had an irresistible urge to pick up dinner from a vegan restaurant."

* * *

Kate took a bite of a quinoa stuffed pepper that Rick had brought to her bedside. "This is delicious Castle. And after what you've told me about The Forge, I can understand why you weren't in the mood for one of your rib eyes."

"Ian doesn't quite share your opinion of the fare," Castle confided. "He tried to eat some because he has his eye on a young lady in his class at SVA, and she's a vegan. But he sampled a few bites of quinoa then promptly hauled a bag of his go-to pepperoni pizza rolls out of the freezer."

"Maybe they make a vegan version of Hot Pockets," Kate suggested. "he's never been able to resist those."

"Good thought. I'll suggest that he look into it."

"So, are you going to the meeting tomorrow night?" Kate asked.

"If there's someone who can be here with you," Castle said. "Ian told me he has an extra tutoring session."

"No problem. Perlmutter is on tomorrow night, so Lanie is coming over. She said she has a new look she wants me to see."

"Can't do better than having our favorite doctor at your side. I'll bet Perlmutter wants to snag the next body. Sometimes I think that man has a genuine bloodlust. He might enjoy the Forge - if he could afford it. Their membership dues rival college tuition. Not Ivy League, but a good state school."

"You know, Castle, you don't have to investigate The Forge. It's not your job, especially with the extra work Gina is piling on you."

"Kate, as long as our slasher is out there killing more victims, if I can search him out by going somewhere the cops can't, I'm going to do it. Anyway, they're only charging me for a month to start, and I can write it off as research. I already have a character in mind for one of the tiny tomes Black Pawn wants."

"Are you basing him on Price?"

"No, Brendon Halsey, the guy at the front desk. He'll make a terrific obsequious henchman. I can already picture it. In fact, I think I'll get it down before the vision fades from my mind. I can bring my laptop in here if you want me to keep you company."

Kate reached up to squeeze his hand. "That would be great, Babe."

* * *

Gordon Johnson carefully crafted a leather sheath for his newest acquisition. Of course, to make it, he'd killed the deer and skinned it himself. He'd set a snare, then put the animal to death with one stroke of his blade. He was merciful; he was always merciful. Death was as instantaneous as it could be. His skill guaranteed that. He'd prepared the venison for his freezer and tanned the leather. It was perfect; just what he needed to protect the ancient blade. The weapon had lasted through the ages, absorbing the life energy of many, and he could hardly wait to show off his treasure. At the auction where he'd obtained it, there had been many bidders, but he'd emerged victoriously. Now the power it held was all his. He could feel frissons shooting through his fingers as he stroked the blade. And there would be more to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Ian 2

Chapter 4

"T-shirt off too, Mr. Castle," Mike Bridges insisted. Castle sighed and removed the garment, placing it on a nearby bench.

Mike regarded Rick's midsection. "Not as bad as I thought, but you still have a lot of work to do. I can start you off before your meeting. Give me fifty crunches."

"Fifty?" Castle repeated incredulously.

"I'm starting you off slow," Mike explained. "Most of the men here can do a couple of hundred without breaking a sweat."

"No wonder they want to go out and kill things," Castle muttered to himself, dropping to the mat.

* * *

Castle dragged into the gathering area with his abs already protesting Mike's torturous commands. He'd been able to grab a two-minute shower, which sluiced off the sheen of perspiration that had covered his body but did little to ease the soreness. Most of the members of the Ancient Weapons Group were already seated around a massive wood table, and Rick gratefully dropped into an empty chair. He scanned the faces. No scars, but the meeting wasn't due to begin for another five minutes. The man at the head of the table, who Castle presumed chaired the group, eyed Rick's badge and nodded. "Mr. Castle, I'm Mr. Galt. Mr. Price informed me that I should expect you. I'm pleased to see that you are punctual. Our meetings always begin promptly on schedule."

"Good to know," Castle replied.

Another member appeared in the doorway, just before Galt's deadline, bearing a leather-sheathed knife. From his research, Rick identified the shape as that of a kukri, a deadly blade wielded by Gurkhas. Castle swallowed as the new arrival turned toward him. A prominent scar graced the man's cheek. Scarface placed his deadly parcel in front of him as he took the last available seat at the table.

"I call this meeting to order, gentlemen," Galt announced. "First item of business, a probationary member of The Forge, Richard Castle, is joining us this evening." Galt inclined his head slightly in Castle's direction. The assemblage muttered a muted acknowledgment of Castle's presence. "Now," Galt continued "I just received a message from Mr. Hardy. As you know, he's been in Utah, competing in the Total Archery Challenge and I am pleased to report that he has won the competition." Applause sounded from around the table, but Castle noted that Scar's response was less than enthusiastic. Galt cleared his throat as the ovation died down. "I see that Mr. Johnson had brought a new acquisition to present before us. "

Gordon Johnson rose from his seat and pulled the sheath from his blade, holding it up for the others to see. "This weapon was used during the Sepoy Mutiny, of 1857," he declared proudly. "As many of you know, the Gurkhas threw down their muskets and plunged into the thick of battle with kukris such as this. The fierceness of the fighters and razor sharpness of the blades inspired such terror that opposing forces fled before the fury of the charge. Even today, the Gurkhas are regarded as the bravest and most heroic of fighters. The blood that has bathed this knife has steeped it in the tide of history."

Castle joined in the applause that rippled around the table, but something in Johnson's eyes gave him an urge to find a men's room.

* * *

"I know how you feel, Dad," Ian sympathized. "I remember the first time our gym teacher made us do sit-ups, my stomach hurt for days."

"It was hardly my first time, but it's been a while since I had to do anything like that," Castle admitted. "It may have been worth it if I did spot our killer. He has the scar. The rest of him seems to match the sketch too, but I think, other than the scar, about half the men in New York would. Our witness may have been a little out of it."

"Have you told Kate?" Ian asked.

"She fell asleep just about the time that Dr. Parish left. I got the feeling that the two of them shared some girl talk, and she was finally able to relax a little. She needed that - a lot. I'm not about to wake her. I can tell her in the morning. How did your session go?"

Ian shrugged. "It was all right. Mr. Frid said some of his students say they're having an easier time reading, with some special colored glasses. He isn't sure if it's a placebo effect or something. He thinks there isn't enough controlled research to back up the theory behind the lenses, but he said he's going to give you a call about them anyway."

"Would those glasses be something you'd want to try?" Castle asked.

Ian shrugged again. "It would look like I was sitting in class wearing sunglasses. That could be kind of cool. And I could watch Melanie Hartsock without her thinking I was staring at her."

I'm not sure that would be an upside," Castle responded. "I almost failed a class in high school when I spent too much time staring at a girl. Fortunately for me, she caught mono from kissing Ronnie Vanderpress. By the time she came back to school, I'd brought my grades up, and was interested in a girl who was working in the library. All in all, much better for my academic career. But seriously, I'll listen to whatever Mr. Frid has to say about the glasses, and if there's any chance they might help, we can check it out." Rick gingerly touched his abdomen. "At least there's unlikely to be any pain involved."

* * *

Kate scowled as she leaned back against a pile of pillows. "Castle, do you have any idea how many people there are in this country named Johnson?"

"I do," Castle replied. "I googled it. Over two million. However, Johnsons with scars on their cheeks and a fascination with ancient weapons should narrow it down. If I could get my hands on the membership list at The Forge, we could identify him right away. Unfortunately, that thing is better guarded than the nuclear launch codes. From what I understand, it only exists in hard copy, so there's no chance it can be hacked. And no one carries it around in a briefcase either. It's locked in a vault somewhere in the part of The Forge that probationary members don't even get to see. The membership committee adds new names by hand. I don't suppose Ryan and Esposito could get a warrant."

"No way, Castle. No judge would consider what we have so far as probable cause. I don't suppose you could get a first name?"

"As far as I know, the only first names that are used at The Forge belong to the trainers." Castle gave a little groan at a twinging reminder from his still tender muscles. "And that's only so you can call them in an emergency like you're about to be crushed by a weight or something. Otherwise, everyone is formally addressed. Very old school. Actually, a lot like school."

"A last name is more than we had before," Kate admitted. "Putting that together with everything like the guy's obvious wealth and his obsession with old knives, we might just be able to limit the possibilities. If not, I may end up as the wife of the world's buffest mystery novelist."

Castle winced. "As flattering as such a title might be, I think I could happily live without it."


	5. Chapter 5

Ian 2

Chapter 5

Castle settled into his desk chair and flipped open his laptop. With the Halsey-like character in mind, he began his first mini-book. He was determined to stay away from a knife-wielding villain. The one he was trying to ensnare in real life, was more than enough. He wanted something more fun, perhaps with a hint of the supernatural, but leaving it up to the reader to decide whether or not to accept a rational explanation. As a rule, he outlined his books, although not in any great detail. He let the quirky character traits and twists erupt from his fingers as he wrote. This book would deal with a questionable reincarnation. His villain, Trask, would fancy himself as having had a past life as a powerful despot, and be attempting to reconstitute a kingdom. He would believe the Halsey character, whom Castle was dubbing Bannon, to have been his chancellor. A grin lit Rick's face at visions of a modern-day criminal royal court, attempting to subjugate the updated version of the peasantry. His fingers flew over the keys, rapidly completing his outline, and plunging into the first chapter, introducing the hero of the piece, archaeologist and part-time P.I., Moses Shannon.

Rick was jerked out of his new universe when Kate called to him from the bedroom. She was holding her cell phone, her face etched with consternation when Castle walked the few steps to her side. "What's wrong?"

"Ryan and Esposito brought what we have on our knife-loving Johnson to Montgomery. The captain decided to call in the FBI. He said they have more resources to trace Johnson down than the N.Y.P.D. does."

"Well don't they?" Castle asked. "Didn't they just upgrade their computers?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "They had to. They tried before so that they could do case sharing. They blew 10 million dollars on a system that was a total clusterfuck. The FBI director had to go before Congress to explain what went wrong. But Castle, with or without the advanced analytics they have now, those guys will try to take over everything, and believe me, the input from a detective on maternity leave and the writer consultant who happens to be her husband, won't carry much weight, no matter how many cases we've closed. Montgomery knows that, and he's playing along."

"So, are they at least going to look into Johnson?"

"According to Ryan they are, but he, Esposito, and Montgomery had to leave us out of it when they presented the evidence. They just said they were proceeding on a tip from a CI. So, anything we get from now on is going to have to go up a much longer chain."

"Kate, it may be a blow to our crime-busting egos, but if the FBI can come up with the right Johnson, and keep him from killing anyone else, isn't that what we want?"

"Of course, it is, Castle," Kate conceded. "It's just maddening. Even Amelia's kicking up a storm."

"Maybe's she's just hungry," Rick suggested, checking his watch. "I was so absorbed in my new story, I wrote right through your normal lunchtime. Next time I'll set an alert. According to Mike, I can afford to skip a few meals, but you and our daughter can't. Suppose I whip up a to-hell-with-the-FBI lunch. I can throw together a lycopene-rich sauce that would be sure to leave an embarrassing stain on even the most conservative Feebie tie."

Kate couldn't help laughing at the image Castle painted in her mind. "That would be great, Babe."

* * *

Ian puzzled over his drawing. Everything about it should have been right. The proportions were perfect. The costumes jumped off the page. Even the twisted vegetation in the background evoked a mood. There was just something about the expressions that didn't ring true. He ran through the backstory in his mind. He'd made his hero intense and his villain maniacal, but there needed to be more than that. What they were missing was sadness. They had started out as friends, and the fact that they were now locked in mortal combat was tragic, but it wasn't reflected in their faces. He wondered how he could do better and realized that what he needed was a mirror. He excused himself to go to the restroom and stared at his reflection above the sink. He needed to think of something sad. Of course, there was his mother's death, but he couldn't remember it. He did remember the haunted look that had kept appearing on his father's face, at least until he was with Kate, but that wasn't quite what Ian wanted either. He imagined that somehow things went really wrong and something happened to the little sister that already lived in his mind. He examined his reflection. Just the idea of anything happening to Amelia gave him the chills, but as he regarded his expression, it was just what he needed for the faces of both his hero and his villain. And when the fight ended, his hero's triumph would be edged in grief. If he could portray that, he'd know he was making progress as an artist.

* * *

Castle drummed his fingers on his desk. Frid had been impartial on the subject of therapeutic colored lenses. While he admitted that he had seen no miraculous leaps forward, his students who were wearing them were scoring slightly better on his evaluations. That could be the normal learning process, but their progress seemed to exceed that by a tad. The research behind sensitivity to various frequencies of light was scanty at best, but other than the costs of testing and the lenses themselves, no disadvantages had been reported to wearing them. Rick was more than willing spend anything it took to help Ian, even slightly. He'd talk to his son about going through the screening process, as soon as the teen came home from class. Until then, he was going to kick back with Kate.

In searching for a binge-worthy series, she'd discovered Kirkenwald, a show about a bumbling FBI agent who somehow stumbled onto the solutions to murders, despite his incompetence. Part of his success hinged on his long-suffering partner Grace, a forensics expert who discovered clues from which Kirkenwald made weird assumptions, often based on Henley Boys mysteries. Somehow, Kirkenwald was right often enough to keep having high profile cases assigned to him, encountering an assortment of bizarre personanges as he worked to solve them. Kate was enjoying the series because it made fun of the FBI. Castle loved it for the characters, and watching it together gave them a chance to snuggle and lose themselves for a while.

Kirkenwald had reached a particularly strange conclusion when Kate's cell buzzed with an email alert. The FBI had a tentative first name for Johnson. Castle had expected something a lot more interesting than Gordon, but the information that the agency had uncovered, tracked. Unfortunately, it hadn't brought them much closer to proving that Johnson had committed the murders. He subscribed to dozens of weapons-centered publications and websites, but that didn't constitute a crime. The FBI had also come up against another dead end. All Johnson's mail went to a drop in Delaware, in a building that, because of favorable incorporation laws, served as the official address of more than a dozen financial institutions. The Delaware drop forwarded it to a box in New York, but the contact information for the owner had proved to be bogus. There were no cameras at the box' location, either, and not enough evidence to justify a stakeout. There was still not enough evidence to obtain a court order for The Forge's membership list, either. If Johnson was the killer, CI Castle was the only solid link the investigation had to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Ian 2

Chapter 6

Castle was hesitant to both leave Kate and to re-enter Mike's domain, but the gym at The Forge was the best place he could think of to pick up snippets of conversation and gossip that might be helpful in solving the case. He hired Helen Mays, a retired nurse-midwife who lived in the building, to sit with Kate while he was gone. The two women shared both a love of mysteries and an addiction to some of the same serial dramas. It was a good match, and Rick felt secure that Helen would know what to do should an emergency arise.

When Rick arrived at The Forge, Mike immediately set him to practicing his breathing to build his core strength. It was a lot better than starting with crunches, but Castle had no expectations of being let off that easy. He was painfully correct about what was coming. After a few minutes, Mike made him get down on the mat, and execute a punishing routine. Castle kept his ears open despite the agony burning through his body. He'd assumed that much of what he'd hear would be about upcoming forays into forests or jungles. It wasn't. The conversation centered on the increasing softness of the new generation of New Yorkers. Castle overheard several references to a wake-up call.

About half-way through Rick's session, Gordon Johnson showed up and began to work out with free weights. Castle expected Johnson's ego to drive the suspect to choose the heaviest weights. Instead, Johnson chose lighter ones but executed more repetitions than Rick even wanted to think about. Apparently, the man was interested more in building strength and endurance than bulking up. That made shudder-inducing sense if Johnson was going to stalk the city slashing throats.

After he finished pumping iron, Gordon sought out a partner for a sparring session with kendo sticks. He chose another member of the weapons group, whom Castle remembered as Mr. Hughes. Cooling down from his own regimen, Rick watched the battle. Johnson and Hughes seemed evenly matched. When they'd finished sparring, their retreat to the locker room seemed companionable. Castle followed to eavesdrop but picked up only a few words of their discussion before all three of them took to the showers. When Castle emerged from soothing his screaming muscles under a rush of hot water, Johnson and Hughes were already gone. He scrubbed his towel hard against his body in frustration. He was missing something. He just had no idea what.

* * *

"So tomorrow you're taking Ian for his tests?" Kate asked.

"Uh huh," Castle confirmed. "If he has any light sensitivities, then he'll get special glasses to filter those frequencies out. "I think he's looking forward to having the results come out positive so he can sit in class looking like Joe Cool - without the floppy ears and wet nose."

"Won't filters like that alter his color perception?" Kate wondered.

"They might. He and I talked about it, but he knows what the colors he uses actually look like. He can see them in his mind. I think he even sees them in his sleep. And if he gets the glasses, he can always take them off. He'll be using them mostly for reading. He's not worried about the tests. He's been more concerned about the expressions on the faces in his drawings. He's afraid he isn't getting them right. I think they look terrific."

Kate's eyebrows rose. "And of course, you're completely unbiased."

"Kate, when I refer to my son as an artistic genius, I am merely stating a fact."

Kate nodded. "Uh huh."

Castle cleared his throat. "So how does Mrs. Mays think you're doing?" Castle caught a fraction of a second's hesitation before Kate declared that she was just fine. "Kate?" he prodded.

"I had a few contractions. She said she didn't think they were serious. There was no bleeding or anything, but she got on the phone with my OB anyway."

"And your OB said?"

"That I need to relax and minimize stress as much as possible."

"Maybe your Aunt Theresa was right, and I should take the murder board out of here," Castle worried.

"Don't you dare! If you do, you'll really see stressed out," Kate warned. "Being connected to a case is the only thing that's keeping me sane right now. So, you really didn't find out anything at The Forge tonight?

Castle ran his hand through his hair. "Honestly Kate, I'm not sure. There's something that's poking at the back of my mind; I just can't get a handle on it."

"I know your pokes, Castle."

"Given your current condition, my beautiful but bulky wife, that's obvious," Rick teased.

"No really. A lot of times, when you got a handle on something that was nagging at you like that, it's broke a case wide open. Usually, you got a cue from something completely unrelated. It'll come."

"I hope so. But I'm too beat right now to think straight."

Kate patted the bed beside her. "So, join me. Tell me about the new book you've been working on. How does an archaeologist become a P.I.? Is Moses Shannon anything like Indiana Jones?"

Castle gratefully plopped down next to his wife. "No, Moses isn't anything like Indiana Jones. He doesn't steal artifacts. In fact, he tracks down some that have already been stolen. That's how he became a P.I. And he favors straw hats over fedoras because they keep the sun out of his eyes better on digs. His first case was something that was stolen from a museum where his best friend was the curator, so he …."

Kate leaned her head on her husband's shoulder, closed her eyes, and listened.

* * *

The therapist, Ms. Lerner, handed Ian combinations of colored lenses to try, as he stared at a page in one of his textbooks. "Tell me if it gets easier to read," she urged.

He saw no difference. Words still swam, and the whole exercise was a strain. Ms. Lerner handed him a final combination in shades of yellow that reminded him of the costume of Boom Rider. The white space around the print retreated, and he could see the words more clearly, without the feeling that his senses were being assaulted. His brain still inverted some of the phrases, but it was a lot easier to tell that it was happening, without the background glare from the margins. "Ms. Lerner, these are doing something!"

Lerner's eyes brightened behind her own metal-rimmed glasses. "Good! Now, look at different kinds of pages, just to make sure." She handed Ian sheets of heavy paper with a variety of fonts and spacing. His eyes still couldn't race across the sentences like his father's did, but everything she gave him was easier to read with the lenses than without them. He bounced in his chair. "They're still doing it!"

Lerner wrote down the codes for the two shades of lenses, she had combined. "Great! I'll send you to our tech so you can get fitted for whatever frames you like and we can have your new glasses ready for you before your father takes you home."

"Can I just try a couple of more things, first?" Ian asked.

She nodded. "Of course. We want you to be sure that what we've found will work for you."

Ian pulled a couple of comic books out of his backpack. The lettering in the bubbles was clearer than he had ever seen it. With the glasses, he was pretty sure he'd even be better at lettering his own work. Grinning, he tucked his graphic treasures away. Where can I see the frames?"

Lerner motioned him out of the room. "Right this way."


	7. Chapter 7

Ian 2

Chapter 7

Ian pointed to the dark frames of his glasses. "They're just like the ones James Gunn wears. Cool, huh?"

"Very," Kate agreed, "but how do they improve your reading?"

"It's not like they change the way I see the letters or the words or anything," Ian explained. "Before, the background, you know, the margins, and the space between the lines, would sort of jump out at me. What I was trying to look at would get lost."

"The background," Castle repeated.

"I know that look, Babe," Kate said, staring up at her husband. "What are you thinking? Something in the background of the case obscuring a clue that's right in front of us?"

"Just the opposite!" Rick responded. "We've put Gordon Johnson front and center because he's the one in Westside Wally's sketch. But what if it's not just him? What if the answer is the background - The Forge or at least more members of The Forge?"

"You mean like in Murder on the Orient Express where all the passengers did it?" Kate asked, doubt furrowing her forehead.

Castle vigorously shook his head. "Not like that. I heard Johnson and Hughes saying that they thought New Yorkers were getting too soft, that they didn't know how to take care of themselves anymore. Hughes thought that we've lost our awareness of all the predators out there and we need to wake up. The way those guys love to hunt, I thought he was talking about lions and tigers and bears."

"Oh, my!" Kate interjected.

Castle scowled at her. "These guys are more dangerous than anything in _The Wizard of Oz_. I think Johnson, Hughes, and maybe some of the other members are committing the murders, in an attempt to try to scare New Yorkers into toughening up. They're being careful about fingerprints and DNA, but even if one of them were identified, the next murder, by someone else, would totally confuse the investigation. Kate, behind their ornate doors, The Forge could be hiding a ring of assassins."

"Like in Gotham and Green Arrow," Ian suggested, "Ra's Al Ghul's followers."

Castle nodded. "But hopefully without an evil immortal leader. The members of The Forge are just men. They're men who've pounded themselves into shape for insane purposes but they are still men, and men always make mistakes."

"They made a big one letting you into The Forge, Dad." Ian pointed out.

"I hope so," Castle said.

"But Babe, if you're right, that just means you need to be even more careful. You can't let anyone at the Forge know you're onto Johnson or anyone else."

"No, I can't," Castle agreed. "But I can pretend that I'm coming around to their point of view, even if it means undergoing whatever other means of torture Mike has in mind. The more I worm my way in, the more chance there is they'll let something slip that the police can use to nail them."

"But Dad," Ian protested, "what if you let something slip?"

Castle put his arm around his son's shoulders. "By the time Mike gets done with me, I won't have enough air left, to say much of anything."

Kate reached for Rick's hand. "I don't like it. It would be better if Montgomery could get a tech to dummy up an identity for a cop who could go in there instead of you. I could try to talk him into it. Better yet, I'll talk to Evelyn and get her to talk him into it."

"Kate, my battered body would thank you - and Evelyn - but until that happens, I think I'd better keep up a presence. Maybe I can come up with a weapon that will help me become a more convincing member of the brotherhood."

"Dad, when I was online looking for a weapon for a time traveler, I saw an Indonesian Keris that was very cool. The blade was bronze, like really ancient. It cost like about a years' allowance though."

"In this case, expensive is good," Castle said. "The more I'm willing to spend, the less likely they'll be to have suspicions about me. That Keris may be just what I need. Send me the link."

"Just stay safe, Dad," Ian urged, "whether you can nail the killers or not."

"Listen to your son, Castle," Kate commanded.

"I'm rather set on keeping what's left of this body intact, myself," Castle agreed. "I will display a deadly weapon with Forge-like pride."

* * *

Even with expedited shipping, Castle's Keris wasn't scheduled to arrive for a couple of days. Montgomery had taken Kate's idea of sending an undercover cop into The Forge under advisement, but couldn't see how he could jam an expensive masquerade into the precinct's recently curtailed budget, especially if the only justification he had was one of Castle's theories. Until Castle produced more convincing evidence, he was on his own. Rick was more worried about Kate and the baby than he was about himself. Having her husband walking into the lion's den wasn't doing anything for Kate's peace of mind, or for Ian's. He decided to keep his distance from The Forge until his knife arrived. He needed the time to write, anyway. Moses Shannon was well into his adventure, but Rick still had his other two series to pen. Staying away from Mike's chamber of horrors was a bonus.

The murderous gang at the Forge didn't cut Castle or the N.Y.P.D. any slack. The day Castle's antique knife arrived, another body was discovered. In addition to a slit throat, Lanie noted defensive wounds. Lanie also scraped skin cells from under the victim's long acrylic fingernails. The lab was running the DNA, and with any luck, there would be marks on the perpetrator. Castle would not only be returning to the Forge to show off his new toy; he would spend time in the gym and especially in the locker room, where he could spot any telltale gouges. If Rick was really lucky, he might be able to swipe something with DNA on it to compare with what was in the lab. A match would provide all the evidence the police would need to obtain an arrest warrant for the killer and provide probable cause to investigate the rest of the membership of The Forge. Castle could bug out of the assassins' lair for good."

"You're going to have to make up for lost time," Mike warned Castle when he arrived in the gym.

Rick shuddered inwardly and took his place on the mat. "I can't stay too long," he informed his menacing trainer. "I have something extraordinary to present at the weapons club tonight."

"Then," Mike assured him, "we will make every minute count."

* * *

An exhausted Castle was tempted to curl up in the corner of the locker room, but Hughes, Gordon, and Galt were all there. When they emerged from the shower, they'd be wearing nothing but towels slung around their hips. Any fresh signs of a struggle would be clearly visible. As much as he would have liked to soak all night, Castle made his own shower as short as possible, emerging before two of the men and while a third was toweling off. Fingernail scratches on Galt's neck that had been concealed by the collar of his shirt were now shouting the weapon lover's guilt. Galt gulped bottled water from as he dressed. "I hear you have something special for us tonight, Mr. Castle."

Castle forced a smile to his lips. "Yes Mr. Galt, I believe I do."

Galt returned the smile, before tossing his bottle into a recycling bin. "I look forward to it."

As soon as Galt was out the door, Castle used a paper towel to fish the bottle out of the receptacle. Wrapping it carefully, he stowed it in his gym bag. "Gotcha!" he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Ian 2

Chapter 8

Castle paused a moment for effect, before opening the artfully crafted wooden case to reveal his Keris. As subtly as he could, he observed the responses of the members of the Ancient Weapons Group as he passed his find around the meeting table. He would have predicted the excitement in the eyes of Johnson, Hughes, and Galt, but there were at least two other members who appeared on the edge of orgasm. Their expressions could just be a reaction to the magnificence of the blade, or something more sinister. Rick could only hope that after the meeting he would be out of The Forge for good, and it would be up to the police to further sort out the case.

"I think we owe Mr. Castle a round of applause," Galt declared, rising from his seat. The other members joined in the ovation before Galt announced the next item on the agenda, a recounting of the triumphs group members were scoring in various competitions. As painful as The Forge's training regimen was, Castle had to admit that it achieved its purpose. The members were highly successful in contests throughout the country and the world. He just wished that their killer instinct was confined to those pursuits.

Rick struggled to keep a self-satisfied expression on his face as the evening dragged on. He wanted to get out of there. He needed to go by the police lab and fill out the chain of custody forms to validate any evidence they could pull from Galt's water bottle. He also needed to take his first available opportunity to call home and reassure Kate and Ian that he was still in one piece. Finally, Galt declared the meeting adjourned. "Mr. Castle," Galt called, as Castle picked up his bag to leave, Mr. Hughes, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Tarrant, and I will be watching live video from an expedition in Nepal. The stream will begin in a few moments. Would you like to join us?"

Castle didn't dare refuse. He also wondered if Tarrant was another murderous member of the club. Despite the stiff formality the Forge members assumed, Tarrant and the others seemed pretty chummy. The five men settled in front of a big screen smart TV to wait. Castle had wondered if there might be booze or what he really craved, strong coffee, served while they watched. Instead, there were the murky green energy smoothies Mike dispensed in what Castle regarded as adding insult to injury. Rick did the best he could to pretend he appreciated both the drinks and the broadcast. He found the Sherpas more intriguing than the adventurers they guided but kept his opinion to himself.

It was past eleven when Castle finally was able to depart The Forge gracefully. The police lab was still open. It operated twenty-four seven. Carl, Castle's favorite forensics expert, was no longer on shift, but the criminalist who was there dutifully logged in the bottle Castle presented and promised to get the analysis underway as soon as she could get authorization from Captain Montgomery and her supervisor. "Damn bureaucracy!" Castle muttered as he left the building.

* * *

Rick had hoped that Kate would be asleep when he finally made it home a few minutes past midnight, but both she and Ian were wide awake. He kissed Kate and hugged Ian, showing them that he was uninjured, before donning his softest pajamas and climbing into bed next to Kate. When he opened his eyes again, it was 10 A.M. Ian had fetched breakfast for both Kate and himself before he left for school. After the concoction he'd forced down the previous night, Castle was anything but hungry, but he sipped a mug of his darkest blend of coffee while he sat with Kate. "How fast do you think the lab will have the DNA results?" he wondered.

"Castle, they may not have even started running the sample yet. Even if they have all the paperwork, there is a queue, and evidence that comes in from real cops will probably take precedence. I'm just glad you're out of The Forge."

"So am I," Castle agreed, "but I had to leave the Keris. Galt wanted to put it on display in the reception area, with the swords. I suppose I should regard that as an honor - if one I can do without."

"Just as long as he didn't decide to use it on you, Babe. I'm really glad you're away from him and his buddies."

"Yeah me too. Until we get DNA results back, it's probably too soon for a celebration, but I had a new Blu-ray set arrive the same time my Keris did. It's a re-mastering of the three original Star Wars movies. I think they stuck the kid who played Anakin in as the redeemed Vader, but otherwise, it should be pretty great. In any case, good refreshingly triumphs over the dark side of The Force. Join me?"

Kate fluttered her lashes. "Will you make popcorn?"

"All that your pregnant body craves."

* * *

"You know," Kate considered as they viewed the saga, "Luke must have really had to shift gears when he discovered Leah was his sister."

"From what I read, George Lucas originally intended Luke and Han to be brothers, competing for her," Castle said. "That would have been an interesting dynamic, but it would have had the bad boy brother getting the girl. Very Hollywood, but not great mythology. I think the films endure because Lucas went the mythological route. Sometimes I wish I'd done that in my books. They're good stories, but I don't see any English teachers building lessons around them, or college courses focusing on their character development."

"Is that what you want, Castle, to be taught in a literature class?"

"Maybe," Castle mused, "depending on how much the students actually want to take the class. But I would like to write something that will be remembered once it slides off the best-sellers list."

"The great American novel?" Kate asked.

"I'm not sure. I've been too busy making Black Pawn happy to give it much thought. But maybe after I finish my current obligations, I will. Who knows? Amelia may provide new inspiration."

"Are you suggesting that our daughter will supplant me as your muse?

Castle pulled Kate close, burying his face in her hair. "I already love Amelia with all my heart, but the one and only Katherine Houghton Beckett is irreplaceable."

* * *

Gordon Johnson ran his finger over the blade of Castle's Keris. "You shouldn't display it yet."

"Why not?" Galt asked. "It portrays strength through the ages. It's the perfect metaphor for our brotherhood."

"Except for the patina, the blade is clean," Johnson pointed out. "We don't know if it's ever tasted blood."

"How could it not have?" Galt asked. "It wasn't cast for decoration."

"We should be sure," Johnson insisted. "You performed the last ceremony. Hughes and Tarrant have satisfied their lusts. The next sanctification should be mine. The new moon is in two days. I'll have the blessing of darkness. I can offer the sacrifice then."

"The whole city is already on alert, I don't see any gain from another sacrifice so soon," Galt argued. "And the last one fought back. We did accomplish that purpose. I believe our task is done, at least for the present. Give me the knife. I'll make sure it is properly mounted."

Johnson handed back the blade. "As you wish." It didn't matter to Gordon. He could retrieve the weapon when the darkness called - and that would be soon.


	9. Chapter 9

Ian 2

Chapter 9

Castle was unrelentingly impatient waiting for the DNA results from Galt's bottle but was able to spend two days writing unimpeded. He'd even managed to jot down a few ideas for his literary project, but he didn't much like any of them. Kate was less jittery but bored. Castle tried his best to amuse her with his newest plot lines, and Ian brought his newest renderings of heroic battles to her, soliciting the opinion of the warrior princess whom marriage and pregnancy had transformed into the warrior queen.

Castle was more than elated when the call finally came. The DNA from Galt's water bottle matched that from the cells Lanie found under the last victim's fingernails. If Kate wasn't pregnant, Castle would have popped the cork on his most expensive champagne. Instead, he, Kate, and Ian shared sparkling cider and massive sundaes built of chocolate, strawberry, and potato chip fudge ice cream.

Castle woke up the morning after a night of anaconda-like digestion and snuggling with his wife. Kate smiled at him and grabbed her cell phone as the speaker gave out with Lanie's cheery "Hey, Girlfriend," ringtone. Castle watched his wife's face morph from satisfaction to horror as she listened to her best friend.

Kate reached out to grab Castle's hand. "There's another body."

"Damn!" Castle exclaimed, "I was hoping the cops would nail Galt and his murderous band before they killed anyone else."

Kate's teeth attacked her lower lip. "There's more. Lanie found traces of antique bronze in the wound."

Castle raked a hand through his hair, slumping against the backboard. "God, Kate, the keris. The murderer used my knife."

Kate cradled his stubble-roughened cheek in her palm and pressed her head into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Babe."

* * *

Castle faced Ryan and Esposito across the table in interrogation. "From the top, Castle," Esposito instructed. "Tell us again about the knife, who did you give it to and who else would have had access to it."

Castle repeated his accounting, then shook his head, his hands fisting in the stiff fabric of his jeans. "Look, guys. I haven't been back to The Forge since I gave Galt the keris. He might have committed the murder himself, or if he really did put it on display in the reception area, any of the members, or even the guardian at the gate, Halsey, would have had access to it."

"It wasn't Galt, Castle," Ryan said, "We were banging on his door before the murder was committed. He was in custody during the kill zone."

Castle drew an uneven breath and rubbed the stiff muscles at the back of his neck. "So, there was more than one killer. I was right."

"Castle, I gotta ask," Ryan said, "where were you last night?"

"At home with my wife and son. You could call Kate and ask her, but I wish you wouldn't. Having to clear me as a suspect is the last thing she needs right now. I went out for a little while to buy ice cream and chocolate syrup for our unfortunately premature celebration. You can ask the clerk at the store down the block from the loft. He goes by Weebie. He's got a streak of green right down the middle of his hair and a hoop earring. You can't miss him. I should be on the security footage too - if the cameras were working."

Esposito nodded. "We'll check it out, Castle. We just have to be sure, you know?"

"Yeah," Castle acknowledged. "I know."

* * *

"You're staring," Castle told his son as they shared a pizza Castle was trying to work up the appetite to eat, with Kate.

"I'm sorry, Dad. It's just that your expression, it's the one I've been trying to figure out for the superhero I've been working on at SVA; defeated, even though he won the battle. I'm really sorry about the knife. It's kind of my fault. I talked you into buying it."

"It is absolutely not your fault," Castle declared. "You didn't talk me into anything. You just helped me find what I already wanted. If you hadn't, I probably would have found it, or something equally deadly, myself. And you and Kate tried to keep me away from The Forge. I made my own choices. Now I have to live with them" He pounded his fist against his thigh. "I don't understand why it's taking the cops so long to storm that place."

"You know Montgomery, Castle," Kate said. "He likes to have all his T's crossed, and his I's dotted. And by just picking up Galt, and leaving them alone, the rest of the members of The Forge could be lulled into a false sense of security. Galt was the only one who left behind any physical evidence, and they don't know about the sketch of Johnson because it was never released to the press. If the other members of the assassins' club think they're in the clear, they're less likely to destroy records or evidence. If I had to guess, I'd say Montgomery will have ESU move in tonight when the most members are likely to be there, seize any potential evidence, and round up the suspects."

"That wouldn't be just Johnson, Hughes, and Tarrant. Any of the other members, especially the ones in the Ancient Weapons Group could be involved," Castle pointed out.

"You told Ryan and Esposito all of that, didn't you?" Kate queried.

Castle nodded. "Uh huh, and I think Montgomery was in Observation. He probably heard it all too."

"Then we just wait," Kate responded.

Castle dropped an untouched pizza slice back onto the plate he'd been balancing on his lap. "That seems to be most of what we've been doing lately."

* * *

"Bad news, Captain," Esposito reported to Montgomery. The walls are too thick for ESU to get fiber optics in. There's no clear view inside. If they breach, they'll be going in blind. Since there aren't any exigent circumstances, the operation is on hold until the door opens."

"Damn! From what Castle told you and Ryan, that could be hours."

"Yes sir," Esposito agreed.

"I'm going to send some unis for coffee and donuts," Montgomery decided. "It could be a long night."

* * *

Johnson put the keris back on the wall while Halsey was taking a leak. The moron hadn't even noticed it was gone. Mike had given Gordon a good workout. Not that he needed one. The blood lifeforce was shooting energy through his veins. He could feel it crackling through his body. His sacrifice had been perfect. Unlike that idiot Galt, he'd left nothing behind except a deservedly lifeless body. And he was so much stronger for it, too strong to be confined by the walls of The Forge. The darkness outside was his realm, and he would traverse it with the confidence of a king.

An ESU spotter pointed and spoke softly into his com, as the door to The Forge opened, and Gordon Johnson emerged, deeply inhaling the night air. Multiple rifles were cocked, and a bouquet of muzzles surrounded him. "I don't have a gun," he declared, at a shouted order to get to his knees. "None of us use guns. A true predator would never use such an inelegant weapon."

Esposito stalked up and cuffed him while a squad from ESU cautiously entered the door Johnson had left unlocked behind him. "Inelegant, huh? You make one wrong move, and you'll be inelegantly dead."

"My blood contains the force of a thousand lives." Johnson proclaimed. "My spirit will roam this earth forever."

Pushing Johnson's head down, Esposito shoved him into a squad car. "Yeah, we'll see how far you roam now."


	10. Chapter 10

Ian 2

Chapter 10

Castle stepped off the elevator at the 12th Precinct. He felt a lot better than he had the last time he'd been there. Observing an interrogation would definitely be more fun than being the object of one. He wished Kate could be with him, but Mrs. Mays was faithfully watching over her, and he'd promised to tell her every word that Johnson said, the moment he returned home.

As Castle peered through the two-way mirror, Johnson did not look perturbed. If anything, he was gazing at Ryan and Esposito in what appeared to be amusement. Esposito slapped a thick file on the table. "You can wipe that smile off your face, Johnson. We have you cold. Your fingerprints were on the knife that killed Marci Romer. You were spotted at the scene of Angelica Warren's murder. When we searched your apartment, we found a shirt with Marci's blood on the cuff. And then there's this." Esposito withdrew a thick sheaf of paper bound by rings, from his file, and passed it to Ryan.

The blue-eyed cop flipped through the pages. "Chronicles of the king, is that what you'd call these, Johnson? That's how you refer to yourself when you describe the details of the killings."

"Those weren't just killings; they were sacrifices," Johnson protested.

"Sacrifices to who?" Esposito demanded.

"To the old gods, Detective," Johnson explained. "They still reign wherever blood flows freely - in Africa, in the Middle East. Their power is rising again in Europe, and even here, where I am their chosen. More of their power flowed through me with every drop of blood that blessed my blades, and I have been anointed to claim this city as my domain."

Esposito snorted. "The only domain you're going to claim is an eight by ten cell."

Ryan leaned across the table toward the prisoner. "Look, Johnson, your gods are not helping you now, but we can. You are going away for the rest of your life, but where and how is still up for grabs. There are facilities where I wouldn't want to send my worst enemy, and there are some with a semblance of civilization." Ryan tapped his finger on the account that Johnson had written. "You gave your minions in here, pet names. It was easy enough to figure out Galt, but we need to know who the others are. You tell us that, and we'll ask the D.A. to cut you the best break he can."

Castle felt nausea rising in his throat as Johnson grinned. "Detectives, that will just have to remain one of the mysteries of my kingdom."

Esposito waved at the uniformed officer at the door. "Take his royal highness back to holding."

* * *

At the table in the conference room, Castle pored over the handwritten document Ryan had presented to him. "I gotta say, Johnson put a lot of attention into his penmanship. This is almost calligraphy. Another way to exert his grandiosity, no doubt."

"But can you figure out who the other killers he mentions are, Castle?" Ryan asked.

Castle ran a finger down the page. "This one, Blue Star - not very creative on Johnson's part. It's Hughes. He has a large blue star tattooed on his chest. I don't know why, except that it has Greek letters around it so it might have been a fraternity thing." Castle quickly scanned the ornate pages. "I was expecting to see Tarrant, but he's not here. He might have really just been at the club because he gets off on old knives. Oh, this one, Hirsute, I think he's a guy named Miller, also a member of the Ancient Weapons group. Heavy beard, lots of hair on the arms, I could see a mat of it peeking out of the collar of his shirt, too. He fondled my keris like it was his mistress. I think he might even have come when he handled it." Castle read a little further. "And Gurney, I think that's taken from Gurney Halleck. In Dune, he's Paul Atreides' trainer. He must be Mike Bridges. I didn't think he was involved, but the way he put everyone through their paces, I suppose it makes sense. He seemed to genuinely enjoy inflicting pain with his traumatic tasks and putrid potions. Then the faithful but stupid retainer, that's got to be Halsey. Doesn't look like he killed anybody. He was just fawning enough to stroke the egos of the psychos that did. As far as I can tell, the rest of the membership of The Forge, aside from being wacko, is in the clear, and it looks like they had no idea what Johnson and the others were doing."

"We'll check all that out," Ryan said, "Thanks, Castle. Couldn't have broken this case without you. You can get out of here, now. And tell Kate we miss her."

"Least I could do, after what Galt did with my knife. And yeah, I'll tell Kate you miss her. She misses you guys too."

* * *

"You're right Castle," Kate sighed, "I do miss the precinct. I wish that after Amelia is born, I could take her to work with me, but it's not like I can investigate a crime scene carrying around a baby. And as great a job as you've done with Ian, I'm not about to let you raise our child on your own."

"I appreciate that, but there could be an alternative," Castle suggested.

"What do you mean, Babe?"

"I'm a consultant, and I've worked with the boys even when you weren't with me. I fit doing that around Ian's schedule, my writing, and of course, being with my beautiful wife. You could be a consultant too. It's not like we need the money. We could share childcare duties, maybe get a little help at times - not too much. I'm not a fan of having nannies raise children. But I'm willing to bet Montgomery will take whatever help he can get from us, as long as he doesn't have to shoehorn it into his budget. The boys won't mind having access to those keen Beckett crime-solving insights either."

"Castle, you may be right," Kate considered. "Montgomery might go for it. We'll just have to see what we can work out. So, do the boys think they'll be able to nail all the killers from The Forge?"

"They're going to do their best. The Founders of the Forge are horrified by the whole mess. They're going to help in any way they can. There's also a good chance Halsey will be a good witness. As far as we can tell, he didn't really do anything wrong, but he kept track of all comings and goings of the members and the staff. He could be very helpful in building timelines. Until all the murderous players can be collared, they'll be under surveillance, so there won't be any more sacrifices to Johnson's bloodthirsty gods."'

Kate nodded, "I guess that's the best we could hope for."

"When Ian gets home, we can have another celebration," Castle suggested, "and not just about the break-up of Johnson's murderous band. I got a call from him on my way home. He aced that projects he's been toiling over at SVA. His teacher said he managed to impart incredible emotions to the characters in his drawings. SVA is already talking to him about continuing his studies there after he finishes high school."

"What about his reading?" Kate asked.

"They're willing to make accommodations, just like they'd do if he was hearing impaired or disabled in some more physically obvious way. And I don't think they'll have to make many. His program will be almost all about the art, and he doesn't have any problems with that. As soon as he gets his diploma, he'll be set."

"Babe, that really is something to celebrate."

"Good, because I stopped at Carlucci's on the way home. They are sending over a feast, including strawberries and whipped cream, the real stuff, not from a can."

Kate reached up to pull Castle in for a kiss. "Sounds like heaven."


	11. Chapter 11

Ian 2

Chapter 11

Castle jerked awake as Kate's elbow poked his ribs. "Rick! You need to start timing my contractions."

"What do you mean timing? How long have you been having contractions?"

"A while. At first, I wasn't sure they were anything. I mean I had some before, but these are different. And they're coming faster now."

Castle's feet hit the floor. "Screw the timing, Kate. We're going to the hospital. Now. I've had your go bag in the car for a month. I'm just going to give Ian a yell so he can open doors. Then I'm going to wrap you in a blanket and carry you to the car, and I'm going to carry you inside the hospital to the nearest wheelchair up to the maternity ward. You are going to have this baby surrounded by doctors and nurses and any medical equipment you or Amelia could possibly need."

Kate knew better than to argue. She didn't really want to anyway.

Ian bounded down the stairs, fastening his jeans and pushing back his hair as he went. "I'm going with you, Dad. If you're going to be carrying Kate, you'll need someone to carry her suitcase and stuff when you get there."

"Okay," Castle allowed. "Let's just get out of here!"

* * *

"You're only four centimeters dilated, Kate," Nurse Connie Selles announced, as Kate impatiently lay in her hospital room. "It's going to be a while. But the doctor said everything looks fine, and your readouts are normal. You should try to relax as much as you can. I'll be back to check on you soon, and if you need anything just press the call button." Connie bustled out the door.

Kate looked up at Castle pacing the room. "Babe, when she said relax, she meant both of us."

"I know," Castle admitted, "but I haven't been there for the birth of a baby since Ian. I just don't want anything to go wrong."

"Wearing a path in the floor won't help, and the way things go at hospitals these days, they'll probably charge us for it. When my Dad had his gallbladder removed, they charged eight bucks for a box of Kleenex®. Even though his insurance was picking up most of the bill, he called the hospital counsel and told them he was going to bring a class action suit against them for overcharging their patients. He did, too, but it will probably be in the courts for at least another ten years."

"Good for Jim," Castle said. "But I don't care what the hospital charges as long as you and Amelia are all right. Can I get you anything? Ice chips? Magazines? Porn videos? I hear they speed up labor."

"How about just trying to find a decent movie on the TV? We can both use the distraction."

"Okay, Castle agreed. "I don't suppose the hospital subscribes to the Naughty Nights channel."

Kate rolled her eyes. "I don't suppose they do. Where did Ian go?"

"There's a twenty-four-hour pizza joint across the street, with video games. I told him I'd call his cell if anything happens. He said he'd be back in a little while anyway. He wants to sketch everything here he can for when he draws hospital scenes."

"He always wants to get everything perfect," Kate observed.

"Yes, he does," Castle agreed. "He gets that from his mother. Not the drawing thing. Kyra could barely draw a straight line with a ruler, but she loved to arrange flowers, and they always looked like something out of a magazine - the ones with real art - not the Martha Stewart stuff. Damn! Right now, everything should be all about you and Amelia. I don't know why I'm thinking about her."

Kate held out her hand to him and wrapped her fingers around his. "I do. It's because you're worried. I can't even imagine how you got through it, having her die when Ian was so young. But Rick, I'm not sick. There were some complications in my pregnancy, but I'm going to be fine, and so is the baby. Amelia, you, me, and Ian are going to be a family for a long time. Now, go find the Hallmark Channel or something. We need to watch a story with a happy ending while we're waiting for one of our own."

"Alright," Castle agreed. "A Christmas card flick it will be."

* * *

Ian put his last quarter in the old-fashioned pinball machine that was in the back corner of Original Octavio's Pizza. Smashing the buttons for the flippers was a much more satisfying way to blow off steam than working the controls of the video games. He didn't know why there weren't more pinball machines around. His Dad had thought about getting one for the loft for a while but decided that if he did, he'd never get any writing done. Ian could understand why. The machine was addictive. But playing it helped him calm down. After the rush to get Kate to the hospital, he finally felt like he could breathe again. Ian imagined that it wouldn't hurt his father to play a few games either, but there was no way that Dad would leave Kate's side until Amelia came, however long that would take. Ian heard the click that indicated a match. He'd play his free game and then go back to the hospital. He hadn't thought to grab his sketch pad, but he'd noticed some stationary in the hospital gift shop. He could draw on that. The nubby texture might even create some interesting effects. He mentally crossed his fingers that there wouldn't be any tortured expressions from his family to capture. He didn't know if he could handle it if anything bad happened to Kate or Amelia. And he was pretty sure his father couldn't. From what his Grandmother Rodgers had told him about when his mother died, the only thing that had kept his father from jumping in the grave with her was him. That had been a scary thing to hear. Two of his balls slipped right through his flippers. It was time to go back across the street.

* * *

"You're at six," Nurse Selles reported. "My shift is over in five minutes, "but Mindy will be here for you. Your epidural is obviously doing its job, and the baby is showing no signs of distress. You're doing great."

"I don't feel like I'm doing great," Kate complained to Castle. "We've been through two movies, and I still have four centimeters to go."

Castle flicked back a strand of hair that had found it's way to the corner of her mouth. "Now you're the one who's getting impatient. You're sure about the porn? The hospital doesn't have any, but I can get some on my phone."

"Castle! What if Ian comes back in?"

"He's a teenage boy. He can get his own porn. But he told me that he drew as much equipment as he could see in maternity and they won't let him into ICU. So, he went down to the lobby to sketch the people who come to the coffee cart. He said he might try painting them. He hasn't done much with paint, but he thinks that worry, boredom, fear, all the things he expects to see in the faces of the visitors and the staff could make a great series. If it comes out halfway decent, he might be able to get it into a junior student showing at SVA."

"I wish I could make that good a use of my time," Kate said. "I wonder if the boys have a new case?"

"You couldn't be making better use of your time. You're having our daughter. But if you really want me to, I can call them and find out. If they are on a murder, we could build theory together." Castle's mouth quirked crookedly. "That's always been like porn for you and me, anyway."

Kate shook her head. "Give me your phone, Castle. I'll call."


	12. Chapter 12

Ian 2

Chapter 12

Ryan's eyebrows rose as Kate's voice came through the phone. "Beckett, are you kidding me? You're about to have a baby, and you're calling to ask about a case?"

"That's just it, Ryan. I'm not about to have a baby, I'm waiting to have a baby, and I need something else to concentrate on. So, do you have a body or not?"

"Just a minute Beckett. Javi's coming over, and I'm gonna put you on speaker." Ryan turned to Esposito. "Beckett wants to know about the case."

Esposito's face screwed up as if he'd found a roach in the middle of his jelly donut. "Beckett, just pop out the kid."

"I will, Espo," Kate insisted, "but tell me about your damn case - unless you and Ryan are just sitting around seeing who can make the best paper airplanes."

"It's me," Esposito declared, "hands down. But we do have a body. Seventeen-year-old female, name of Darcy Williams. She had ID's for Bronx High School of the Visual Arts and for the pre-college program of the School of Visual Arts. Hey, doesn't Ian go to that?"

"He does," Kate confirmed.

"I think he knows her," Castle interjected. "He's mentioned a Darcy. Blond, thin, maybe with black ink stains on her fingers."

"That's her, Castle," Ryan agreed. "How did you figure the ink stains?"

"Ian told me she's very good at lettering. She's done some for him and some of the other students at SVU. She'd use India ink. It doesn't wash off."

"She had a few yellow and red stains on her fingers too, but those were the only marks on the body," Esposito added. "Lanie doesn't know what killed Darcy. She said there were signs of kidney failure, but she won't know anything else until she finishes the autopsy and the lab runs all her tests. Darcy was found in her parents' apartment. They went to the Hamptons for the weekend. From what the neighbors said, they were gone a lot. Water was dripping from the ceiling of the apartment downstairs, and when the super went in to check out the problem, he found the bathtub overflowing and Darcy dead. So, he called the cops."

"There's no surveillance video in the building except for the lobby," Ryan put in, "But the neighbors didn't see anyone near the Williams' apartment. There might not even be a case, Beckett. It could just be a tragic death from natural causes."

"But if the girl was sick, why would her parents leave her alone all the time?" Castle wondered. "That doesn't make sense. There's got to be more to it."

"Well so far, that's all we've got," Ryan replied. "Hey, keep us updated on the baby."

"Will do," Castle promised.

Kate regarded her husband. "Babe, you have that 'I have a crazy theory,' look. I could use one right now."

"It will depend a lot on what Lanie finds, but I'm suspicious of the yellow and red stains on her hands. Those could be from cadmium pigments. They are very toxic and have been banned from a lot of uses in this country. I researched that when I was looking into what hazards Ian might be exposed to," Castle explained.

Kate smiled. "Of course, you did. So why would Darcy have been using them?"

"Maybe she wasn't," Castle admitted. "Or maybe she was and didn't know…. What's wrong?"

Kate ran her hands over her belly. "Even with the drugs, I could really feel that contraction. I'm calling Mindy, or whoever is on duty," Kate explained. "I think I'm close." She pushed the call button.

* * *

"You were right," Mindy confirmed. "You're at nine, Kate. Almost there. I think your doctor's grabbing a nap. I'll make sure she's up. Mr. Castle, will you be going into the delivery room with your wife?"

Castle rocked up on the balls of his feet. "Just try to keep me away."

* * *

Amelia's cry split the air in the delivery room as a nurse put her on a scale. "We'll perform the test anyway, but I don't think we'll have to worry about the maturity of her lungs," Dr. Fury remarked.

"Five pounds twelve ounces," the nurse reported. "Apgar eight."

"That's about what we would expect at 36 weeks, Kate," Fury explained. "Once the pediatrician has checked her out, he'll come see you, but it looks - and sounds - like we kept her inside long enough."

Kate reached for Castle's hand as he bent over and kissed her. The nurse finished cleaning and wrapping Amelia and put her in Kate's arms, still squalling.

Castle brushed the fuzz on the top of his daughter's head with the tip of one large finger. "With projection like that, I think she takes after my mother."

* * *

"Hey girlfriends," Lanie greeted Kate and Amelia, as she marched into Kate's room. "I ran out of the lab as soon as I could get Perlmutter to cover. Couldn't wait to see Amelia."

"Nice to see you too, Lanie," Castle drily greeted the M.E.

"You want to hold her?" Kate offered her friend.

Lanie beamed and carefully took Amelia from Kate. "Are you a beautiful girl? Yes, you are," she murmured to the infant, her voice rising an octave. She looked back at Kate. "I love that you named her after Amelia Earhart. I wonder if she'll want to fly a plane when she grows up."

"She certainly likes to break the sound barrier," Castle observed. "I heard the nurse in the delivery room say she was the loudest newborn she'd ever heard."

"You're happy now, aren't you," Lanie cooed. Amelia contradicted her with a wail. "She does put it out there," Lanie noted. "Kind of like her father."

"Hey! I resemble that remark," Castle retorted. "But speaking of putting it out there, did you get any test results on the Darcy Williams case?"

Lanie shook her head, clucking her tongue. "The boys told me you two stuck your noses into that. I can tell you that she died of acute kidney failure and her liver was compromised as well. There were no signs of infection. I'm having the lab run the blood for toxins now."

"Tell them to look for cadmium," Castle said.

Lanie sent a questioning look at Kate. "Really?"

Kate nodded. "Castle has a hunch, Lanie. As a favor to me, just do it."

* * *

Ian was uncharacteristically uninterested in the sandwich sitting in front of him in the hospital cafeteria. "Wow, Dad, that's a bummer - about Darcy. I mean, I didn't know her that well, but she was a great letterer, although not so great lately. I could see there was something wrong with her. But's there is always some bug going around. Some of the other kids in my class at SVA haven't been looking too good either."

"The kids who've been looking sick, do they paint? Do they like using very bright colors?"

"Yeah, Dad, to both questions. "Why? You think something is going to happen to them like it did to Darcy?"

"I hope not," Castle said, "but I need to talk to Dr. Parish, and Ryan and Esposito. I need to call SVA, too. If the other students are suffering from the same thing that Darcy was, maybe we can save them."

"Can I help?" Ian asked.

"Maybe. Make a list of all the kids you think might be sick. If I'm right about what I think is happening, SVA should have contact information for their parents."

"Wow, I hope it's something doctors can fix," Ian said, pulling out his phone to use his list app.

"Yeah, son" Castle agreed. "So, do I."


	13. Chapter 13

Ian 2

Chapter 13

"Amelia must like riding in the car," Castle observed. "She was quiet all the way home. Something to remember on the long nights ahead. Do you want to lie down? You didn't look very comfortable on the trip home. We can put Amelia in the portable bassinet next to the bed. As I recall, Ian outgrew one of those in a few weeks, but he started a few pounds up on Amelia. She should fit in it for a while. That way she'll be close enough so you can stay in bed to nurse her."

"Castle, I've been lying down way too much for way too long. A chair will be fine. Amelia can still be right next to me. And I'd love one of those new strawberry crème sodas you found. They're incredible!"

"Whatever you want," Castle responded. "You settle down with Amelia. You can have my chair." He patted his well-rounded assets. "It's got the most padding. I'll get the bassinet and your soda."

Castle opened the door of the refrigerator and stood there breathing the cool air. It was just beginning to be real. Amelia had battled her way into the world, and both she and Kate were fine. He felt like he was drawing his first full breath in months. There was the new case, but until he heard from Lanie, or at least Kate did, he couldn't do anything more about that. He'd told Gina not to expect anything from him for a couple of weeks and found her surprisingly accepting of the situation. Maybe she had a heart inside her somewhere, or at least a feeling of sisterhood with Kate. He reached for a retro pink bottle and checked his watch. Knowing Kate was still sore, he'd made the drive from the hospital as slowly and smoothly as he could without garnering too many curses and one finger salutes from his fellow New Yorkers. He'd insisted Ian go to school that morning, but the teen would be home any moment. He grabbed a pad of sticky notes from the counter, drew a circle with a diagonal line through it, and stuck it to the carton that held the rest of the kitchy drinks. That would assure that the nursing mother would at least have her preferred source of liquids.

Amelia had awakened from her motion-induced slumber and was already rooting for her own favorite beverage. Castle returned to the kitchen for a straw and held the strawberry crème bottle up so Kate could grab a swallow while she held her daughter. Both Kate's eyes and her mouth took an upward turn. "Babe, I could have waited for that."

"I know," Castle acknowledged, but there's no reason why I can't take care of you while you take care of Amelia. And you have to keep your strength and calorie count up. So, what would you like for dinner? Something un-hospitally?"

"Ooh yeah! How about a totally evil burger with cheese and double bacon? And French fries. The kind with the coating on them, so they get really crisp, even in the oven."

Castle grinned, "I'm rather partial to those, myself. I'll make an extra-large batch, so they don't all end up feeding a teenage fry monster."

Kate grinned back.

* * *

Chief CSI tech Carl stood in the doorway of Lanie's domain. "You were right, Dr. Parish, we found cadmium in Darcy Williams' blood. It was in her lung and liver tissue too."

Lanie nodded. "She was probably exposed to a lot of it over time. Castle put me on to it. I don't know how he figured it out, so I need to talk to him before I tell Darcy's parents what killed their little girl."

"I don't envy you that job," Carl said. "Just getting results like that in the lab is hard enough."

Lanie shrugged and sighed. "Part of being a doctor is delivering bad news. I knew that when I signed up for the job."

* * *

"Was that Lanie?" Kate asked. "Why didn't she ask to talk to me?"

"She was confirming that Darcy died of cadmium poisoning and she wanted to know how I figured it out. I explained about the pigments and e-mailed her Ian's list of the other kids who might have been exposed. She was pretty shaken up. I am too. I was hoping I was wrong and it was just some nasty bug teenagers at SVA were passing around. But if the kids are getting their hands on that stuff, Darcy's death and the illness of the other kids might not be an isolated incident. And Kate, if someone illegally sold poison paint to Darcy, then there is a killer out there. Who knows how many other victims there could be?"

"Castle," Kate declared, "we're sure as hell going to find out."

* * *

Estelle Williams crushed a damp tissue in her fist. "I don't understand. Darcy was killed by her paint?"

"Mrs, Willams," Lanie said softly. "From what I found in Darcy's body, she should have been showing signs for a while. It might have seemed like she was down, just not feeling right, maybe depressed. Those symptoms are called the 'cadmium blues.'"

Estelle grabbed for her husband's hand. "Dr. Parish, Darcy had what you might call 'the blues,' all the time. She was a very talented artist, and she had the temperament that went with it. That's one of the reasons she wasn't in The Hamptons with John and me. She'd be working on a series of drawings, or a painting, and she'd bury herself in the work. We just made sure she had enough food in the refrigerator and enough money, in case anything came up. If we'd known…."

John Williams put his arm around his wife as Lanie nodded her understanding. "Of course, Mrs. Williams. Detectives Ryan and Esposito will be talking to you again. They'll want to look through Darcy's things, her computer, whatever will help them track down where Darcy got her paint and keep it from being sold to anyone else."

"We'll give them anything they need," John promised.

* * *

Castle scanned Kate's face as she pushed her phone back into the pocket of her pants. "I take it that was bad news."

"Ryan and Esposito have hit a brick wall. Tech went over Darcy's computer. They found the website where she ordered her paint, but it was one of those eBay stores that picks up odds and ends of things, like overstocks and cheap imports. The owner had no idea there was anything dangerous about the paint. It wasn't labeled as containing anything toxic. And he had no idea where it came from. He deals with an agent for the stuff that comes from overseas, and the paint was just one of a bunch of small quantity lots he bought. The agent does business strictly by email and has a foreign domain, with shielded ownership. The boys can't find him."

"Well at least they can stop any more of that stuff from being sold on eBay," Castle said.

"It's already been stopped," Kate agreed, "but without knowing who the agent is, they can't nab the real culprit, or find out if he's selling the paints or anything else dangerous, to more unwary customers."

"There's got to be a way to find the guy," Castle protested.

"If you can figure one out, Babe, the boys would probably buy you a beer for a change."

"Yeah, that would be a change," Castle agreed, "but I'm more interested in collaring the asshole who poisons children.


	14. Chapter 14

Ian 2

Chapter 14

Castle looked up in surprise when Martha swept into the loft with two overflowing shopping bags. "Mother, I thought you were finishing your run at the Guthrie."

"Darling, I had to see my new grandchild. Besides, who wouldn't rather be in New York than Minnesota this time of year? We had twenty straight days of below zero. And aside from that city that calls itself a mall, the shopping is much better in New York. My understudy can handle my role for a few days. So where is Amelia?" A loud cry emanated from the bedroom. "Never mind, I can tell. My goodness, that child is destined for the stage. I doubt even Ethyl Merman had pipes like that at such a young age."

"Amelia can certainly get our attention - about every two hours a night."

"Now Richard, don't complain. You knew what you were getting into. As I recall, Ian wasn't the quietest baby either, and certainly, you weren't. Some things don't change much."

"Yes, Mother. From the sudden cessation of sound, I can only assume that Kate is dispensing nourishment, so don't barge in," Castle counseled.

"Richard, really, I do have some finesse," Martha protested.

"Coulda fooled me," Castle muttered as Martha marched off toward the bedroom.

* * *

Mona Seligman examined her latest bank statement with satisfaction. Her teacher's salary was a pittance, hardly worth noting. She'd managed to survive on it for years, but her anger had grown at being not only underpaid but underappreciated. When her cousin had died suddenly, she'd jumped at the opportunity to take over his business as an import agent. Some of the products might be questionable, but it was hardly her fault that some other countries didn't properly regulate their industries. She'd observed over and over again that Americans liked to get their merchandise as cheaply as they got their civil servants. If the price was right, buyers and middlemen didn't ask many questions. She'd received the email from some pissant web merchant about the paint, but screw it. No one asked the buyers to bypass art supply houses. And no one told the artists to eat or inhale the stuff. If they were stupid or careless, that wasn't her concern. She'd just had another shipment arrive, and she'd be damned if she was going to let it sit in a warehouse or worse, foot the ridiculous bill for hazardous waste disposal. There were plenty of online sellers who fancied themselves entrepreneurs. That paint would bring a healthy profit.

* * *

Ian regarded the empty seats of his classmates. He'd heard that some of them were in the hospital because they had to get intravenous medicine every four hours. He winced, visualizing that many needles. Still, at least they weren't going to die like Darcy did. He felt good about helping to keep that from happening. He could understand why his father was so drawn to the work Kate did; catching murderers before they could kill anyone else. And he could understand why Kate wanted to keep at it somehow, even if she and Dad had to spend so much time taking care of Amelia. He'd started wearing earplugs at night after the first couple of days Kate and his sister were home from the hospital. He'd had to buy the heavy-duty ones. He could imagine his sister as either a superhero or a supervillain, subduing people with her cries. Black Canary already did that, but she was a tall, kickass woman. The idea of a baby tickled him, and he had been planning to use Amelia as a model for life drawings of babies anyway. Since he found out what happened to Darcy, he wasn't nearly as interested in trying to do a series of paintings from his sketches at the hospital. Baby Blaster, carried around by her faithful guardian Gladys Shoop, would be fun, and she would work in a comic book aimed at little kids, especially the ones with noisy brothers and sisters of their own. The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it. Maybe that night he'd skip the earplugs so he could catch his sister at her loudest.

* * *

"You know," Castle mused as he and Kate enjoyed a welcome moment of quietude, "the outfits Mother bought for Amelia, are strangely appropriate. The colors are even louder than our bundle of joy."

"Maybe, but if I put them on our daughter, I'm going to have to wear sunglasses. They're all too big anyway," Kate pointed out. "The only things that fit her yet are her t-shirts and her stretchy sleepers. And even those don't need to stretch much."

"She's big enough to be healthy. That's all that matters, and the way she's been swigging the Beckett blend, I'd swear I can see her growing. I'm willing to bet she crushes it at her weigh in at Dr. Lauria's office tomorrow."

"Yeah, fortunately, her gain is my loss. I've had friends who've had trouble losing weight after they had babies, but I don't think I'll have that problem. When I weighed myself this morning, I'd dropped another pound."

"I don't understand why you bothered. You look perfect to me."

"You just love the way my boobs have grown."

"I love all of you," Castle assured her, "But the boobs are definitely a bonus. I'm looking forward to enjoying them, even more, when Dr. Fury gives you the okay for us to burn up the sheets again. I remember it fondly or fondlingly in my dreams."

"It has been a long time hasn't it," Kate agreed, "but you know Babe, there are things we could do that wouldn't upset Dr. Fury."

"Are you feeling up to those?" Castle asked.

"I'm getting there. Look, my Dad is coming over in a little while but maybe tonight between Amelia alerts we could find out."

Castle gazed at his watch and shook his head. "It's going to be a long day."

* * *

With Amelia having retreated to the Land of Nod, Jim Beckett sipped a cup of black coffee while Kate downed one of her strawberry sodas. "She's just beautiful, Katie. Different than you were as a baby. Her hair isn't as dark, and there's a lot less of it. And I think she has Rick's eyes. But beautiful."

"I know Dad. Castle took so many pictures that he ran out of space on his phone and had to upload most of them to the cloud. I can't say it wasn't rough staying in bed all that time, but it was worth it."

Jim reached for her hand. "Children are worth everything,"

"I know Dad. That's one of the reasons Rick and I are so upset about the death of Ian's friend, Darcy Williams."

"I read something about that in the newest digest of consumer product deaths. Accidents like that are a terrible shame."

"It was no accident, Dad. Someone brought that poison into the country and sold it without the proper labeling. In my book, that makes it at least negligent homicide or manslaughter."

Jim Beckett shook his head. "Assuming you can find the person responsible, that's going to be a hell of a case to make, Katie. And aren't you going to be on maternity leave for at least a few months?"

"Maybe more than that Dad, I might be leaving the force to work as a consultant. I still want to help Ryan and Esposito get a handle on this thing, except that it may just be the lack of sleep, but I haven't come up with anything yet. Neither has Rick."

Jim leaned over to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Katie, I know at this stage it can be hard to think straight. But I know you. You don't quit. Sooner or later something will come to you. I'm sure of it."

Kate raked a hand through her hair. "I hope you're right, Dad."


	15. Chapter 15

Ian 2

Chapter 15

Castle tapped his fingers on the tight surface of a newly changed sheet. "I can't believe I'm nervous with my own wife."

Kate stroked his bare chest. "Babe there's nothing to be nervous about. I've never had any complaints about your moves - or your performance."

"I'm not nervous about that. I just don't want to do anything that might hurt you."

"Didn't you and Kyra…? I mean after Ian was born."

Pain flooded Castle's face as he shook his head. "After Ian was born she was already in so much pain from the cancer that all I could do was hold her, and I couldn't always even do that. And she was sick from the chemo, too."

Kate brushed errant strands from his face. "Babe, I'm so sorry, but I'm fine. I have some healing to do, but that's normal." She smiled and stroked his roughened cheek. "And if anything does hurt, I'll give you an elbow in the ribs."

"Well, that's comforting to know." He gently pulled her to him for a kiss. "As I recall, we start like this."

Heat grew between them as their tongues met. Kate could feel her breasts filling and pulled back as she began to drip on Rick. "Shit!"

"Don't worry about it," Castle panted. "I've heard a milk bath is good for the skin." Plunging his fingers into her hair, he guided her lips to his again.

Kate could feel him hard against her and encircled him with her fingers. His hand quickly found the dampness of her sensitive nub, circling and teasing with his thumb. She pressed against him, struggling for more. The sheets tangled beneath them and the bed creaked its protests as they tumbled, skin against skin, stealing air as their mouths remained in tight embrace. Kate could feel the pressure in her breasts flowing through her body as ripples became a tsunami. She felt Castle jerk as she stroked, his own white spillage emerging. She fell against him as they gasped in synchrony.

"Wow!" Castle finally managed. "We're going to need more sheets. And a couple of washcloths. But so worth it!"

Kate just snuggled against him. "Um."

* * *

Just as Rick made the last hospital corner, Amelia let out a blast from a few feet away in the office where Rick had moved her bassinet to be close but not too close. "I'll get her," Kate said. "Good thing I didn't lose to much on you."

"I think I hear Ian's not so dainty feet bounding down the stairs," Castle said. "You might want to cover up a little more."

Ian arrived, sketch pad in hand, just before Kate could tuck Amelia beneath her robe. "Oh, good, she's still screaming. I just need a sec to catch the position of her mouth and how her eyes scrunch up."

"I assume you have a reason for wanting to keep your sister waiting." Castle inquired as Ian's pencil flew.

"Got it!" Ian announced.

Kate turned away for a moment as the baby hungrily attached herself.

"Baby Blaster is my new heroine," Ian explained. "Like Kate was the warrior princess, Amelia is going to take down the bad guys with crippling waves of sound. I just needed to capture what she looks like when she's really pouring it on."

"You certainly did that," Castle acknowledged.

Ian bounced back out of the office. "I'm going to finish my sketch before I lose the rest of the image in my mind. Nite, Kate. Nite, Dad. Nite, Amelia."

Castle shrugged, grinning. "In brightest day or darkest night, no howling face escapes his sight. The artist is always the artist."

"You know, Castle," Kate mused. "You're right. And artists wouldn't stop looking for their favorite shades of paint."

"No, they wouldn't," Castle agreed. "And there's a function on eBay where you can put a watch out for something that doesn't have a current listing. I'm sure there's also one on the other sites that sell odds and ends."

"We can put our own watches on all of them," Kate continued his thought. "We'll get notified if any more of the stuff that killed Darcy comes up for sale, and hopefully keep it from hurting anyone else. God Babe, sharing a mind with you, I'm getting hot all over again."

Castle cupped her cheek. "Once Amelia finishes her repast, we'll see what we can do about that."

* * *

Mona Seligman lifted her hands from her keyboard and stretched her fingers. she'd offered her new merchandise to every site she could use to hawk it. She had plans for the money. She'd spotted the perfect coat in the window of Berlingers. With the pressure from animal activists, a lot fewer women wore fur coats anymore. But she'd always wanted one, and not just mink. She wanted ermine, dyed a deep purple. She'd seen a coat like that once when she was a kid, and she'd never forgotten it. On a teacher's salary, she'd barely been able to manage the fake stuff. But now, she could finally have what she wanted. She could almost feel the warmth of it caressing her body. Soon it would be hers.

* * *

Butterflies grazed the inside of Kate's stomach as she waited in Dr. Lauria's office. The pediatrician was running behind, which from experience, Castle had expected. They'd been taking turns walking around the reception area with Amelia. Mercifully the infant had fallen asleep on Castle's shoulder. Not wanting to break the spell, he held her until the nurse called Amelia's name. All three of them went to the examination room together. "It will just be a few more minutes," the nurse promised before closing the door behind her.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Lauria knocked lightly before coming in. "And how is Amelia doing? I was expecting an aria."

"If you'd been around before we put her in the car this morning, you would have heard one," Castle replied.

Amelia loudly protested being awakened as Lauria took her from Castle. "Ah, those are the operatic lungs I remember." Lauria noted the raccoon eyes both Rick and Kate sported. "Have you two been getting any sleep at all?"

"An hour or two at a time, here and there," Kate admitted. "She sleeps pretty well after I feed her."

Lauria nodded. "That's a good sign. Let's get her weight." He checked the readout on his scale. "This is excellent. Most babies lose weight at first, but she's gained two ounces. How many wet diapers does she have a day?"

"Four or five," Kate answered. "Sometimes more."

Lauria nodded again. "Good, good. I don't see any rashes. The umbilicus is clean. Her eyes and ears look good. Okay! Just keep doing what you're doing, and if nothing comes up, I'll see Amelia again in a few weeks."

"Feel better?" Castle asked Kate as he secured Amelia in her safety seat.

"I do," Kate admitted.

"So how about if I drive on the bumpiest street I can find, then when Amelia's down for the count again, we find a drive-thru. We can eat in the car and with any luck when we get back, all three of us can grab a nap."

"Babe, that is one of the best ideas you've had.

Kate and Rick had just curled up on the bed together when an alert dinged on Kate's phone. "Leave it alone," Castle urged drowsily. "Whatever it is, can wait an hour, or however long Amelia grants us."

Frowning, Kate grabbed her cell from the nightstand and checked the screen. "Castle, this could be it! Some paints touted as the brightest in the world just went up for sale."

Castle pulled himself up. "Somehow, I'm not sleepy anymore."


	16. Chapter 16

Ian 2

Chapter 16

"Did you get it?" Castle asked

"Uh huh, red and yellow," Kate confirmed. "But I couldn't get anything faster than three-day shipping. Until we get it analyzed, we won't know if it's the right paint or not."

"Maybe more will pop up on other sites where we can expedite delivery better. But it's a start. Hey, with any luck we've probably got at least another half hour before Amelia wakes up. Suddenly my pillow is calling again."

"Yeah, mine too," Kate agreed.

Castle extended his hand. "Then let's cuddle down together."

* * *

Ian squirmed in his seat. With no SVA that afternoon, he just wanted to get home to work on Baby Blaster. He had a story all worked out in his head. Floodplain would be hijacking shipments of disposable diapers all over the city leaving store shelves bare and babies with wet butts. Baby Blaster would overwhelm him, and Gladys Shoop would have her friend, Sergeant Riley arrest him. Clean and dry, Baby Blaster would be ready to take down a kidnapper who was lurking near the swings in the park, making the neighborhood safe for kids again. With Darcy gone, Ian would have to do the lettering himself, but his special glasses would help. He could use his scanner and publishing app and print the pages for the Baby Blaster comic on Dad's network printer. He'd have to put them together himself. After that, he could drop a few off at Comicadia as freebie giveaways. If they were a hit, he could do a series, maybe get it professionally printed if Dad would front him the money, but he had a lot of work ahead of him before he could even get to that point.

When the bell finally rang, he decided to stop on his way home for an egg cream. If Amelia was asleep when he got back to the loft, chances were Dad, and Kate would be trying to catch a nap. Even if Dad was writing, Ian didn't want to take the time or make the noise in the kitchen to throw together a snack. Besides, He'd spotted Fleur stopping at Feldman's before, on her way to the subway. She was new. She'd transferred in when her parents had moved to New York from Martinique. She wasn't in his art class, but they had social studies together. She wasn't shy about raising her hand, and he loved the lilt in her voice when she answered questions. She was smart, too. She spoke English and French and sounded great in both.

Fleur was sitting on a stool at one of the high tables at Feldman's when Ian arrived. He couldn't tell what she was drinking, except that it was in the wrong kind of glass to be an egg cream. He watched while his own favorite beverage was mixed, then took a seat at the next table. Fleur looked over and smiled. "Ian, _n'est-ce pas_?"

Ian gulped. "Uh huh, and you're Fleur, right?"

" _Oui_. Yes. "I saw one of your cartoons on the wall in the yearbook room; it was very good - and very funny."

Ian shuffled his feet on the rail of his stool. "Thanks."

"What is that you are drinking?" Fleur asked. "I don't think I've seen it before."

"It's a New York thing," Ian explained. "It's called an egg cream, but it doesn't have any eggs or cream in it. It's seltzer - that's like club soda - with milk and chocolate syrup. You want to taste some? I could get another straw."

"Sounds like fun. I love trying new things," Fleur agreed. Ian scrambled to the counter and hurried back, handing her the paper covered article. He offered his glass as she unwrapped it. Fleur drew up a small sip, savoring the chocolate on her tongue. "That is good."

"I could buy you one." Ian offered.

"That's very sweet, Ian, but I've almost finished my iced tea, and if I don't leave soon, I'll miss my bus and my mother worries when I'm late."

"Yeah, I get it. My Dad worries too. See you in class tomorrow?"

Fleur flashed him another smile. "I look forward to it. Au revoir."

* * *

"Something is going on with Ian - besides toiling over a hot drawing board," Castle said, staring at nothing. "He didn't finish his fries at dinner, and he didn't even regale me with his plot for Baby Blaster until I asked him about it."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Castle, I'm surprised you don't recognize that moony-eyed look from the mirror. You had it on your face when we first met. And that wasn't the last time. Your son is in love, or at least in lust."

Castle raked his hand through his hair. "Oh no! I have a feeling this is a lot more serious than starring across the room at a great pair of boobs."

"You could ask him about her," Kate suggested.

Castle shook his head. "He'll tell me when he's ready, and she'll probably show up in his artwork long before that happens. Everything always has, ever since he could hold a crayon. He's going hot and heavy on Baby Blaster right now, but I'm willing to bet that the mystery girl, whoever she is, turns up as a character before long." Castle's phone dinged, and he checked the screen. "That's one of my alerts. My turn to buy some paint. One way or another, we are going to nail this guy."

* * *

"You've been humming ever since you came home," Jacqueline Clary noted. "Good day at school?"

"Good day after school," Fleur confessed. "Remember the boy I told you about, Ian Castle?"

"The cartoonist who's in Mrs. Katz's class?" Jacqueline inquired.

" _Oui_. I saw him after school today. He was really nice."

"How nice?" Jacqueline prompted.

"He wanted to buy me a soda, but I didn't have time. I hope he didn't think I was being _timide_.

"Sometimes being a little coy isn't such a bad thing," Jacqueline suggested. "Boys can get the wrong idea."

"Oh, Ian's not like that," Fleur insisted. "He's like a little _chiot_.

"Puppies grow into dogs," Jacqueline warned. "Sometimes men think that island girls are - I think you know. You saw it from the tourists sometimes. And I don't know about New York boys. You be careful."

"I will _Maman_ ," Fleur promised. "but I don't think Ian would see me that way. I need to work on my homework now."

"Fine," Jacqueline agreed, "just remember what I said."

* * *

Ian put aside the Baby Blaster panels he'd drawn. He'd made a good start on the story, and he needed to figure out which buildings to use in the background. He was thinking that a blast battle might take place up near Columbia somewhere or maybe in Chelsea. Wherever he put it, he wanted his renderings of the scenery to be accurate, and if he couldn't find good pictures to work from, he'd go sketch them onsite. He picked up his sketch pad, and Fleur began to appear. He stared at the image. The rough lines were in charcoal, but they didn't suit her features or the shade of her skin. For what he thought of as a rich mocha latte, pastels would be better, or watercolors or maybe even acrylics. He'd have to try them all and see what worked. However managed to capture her likeness, it would have to be beautiful.


	17. Chapter 17

Ian 2

Chapter 17

"Is that your paint?" Kate asked as Castle closed the door behind the FedEx delivery woman.

"I think so," Castle said, ripping open the padded envelope. "Boom! I've got a private lab lined up. If these tubes are positive for cadmium, we'll have our trail. It'll take me a couple of hours to run it over there. It's in Jersey."

"Then go!" Kate responded. "If they find it, we won't have to wait for my order to arrive."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Castle promised, grabbing his coat out of the closet. "You want me to pick up anything on the way?"

"No. I think we have everything we need. Things have been disappearing at a lower rate since Ian slowed his attacks on the fridge."

"You're right," Castle agreed. "It's kind of scary. I'm anxious to meet the force behind his relative anorexia."

"One step at a time, Babe," Kate counseled. "We don't even know her name yet."

"Right again. And I need to get out of here if I don't want to get stuck in traffic on the bridge. See you later."

* * *

Mentally hugging herself, Mona Seligman pulled open the door of Beringer's. A bell tinkled her arrival, and a woman with grey braids wrapped around her head in a corona hurried out of the back room. "I'm Yetta Beringer. May I help you?"

Mona pointed back toward the display window. "The purple ermine, I want it."

Yetta's sharp eyes scanned up and down Mona's stylishly too thin figure. "An exquisite choice, but I believe it may be a bit large for you. My husband and I are both experienced furriers. We would be happy to make any alterations you need."

Mona stuck out her lip. "I was hoping to take it home with me."

"I'm very sorry," Yetta soothed. "Working with fur isn't like working with cloth. We can't just make a quick tack or rip out the stitching if there's an error. Every inch has to be painstakingly planned. But if you'd like to take it now it to wear for some special occasion, you are welcome to bring it back anytime so we can fit it properly."

"No," Mona dcided grudgingly, "I've been waiting a long time for a coat like that. It should fit. Can you start the alterations now?"

"Of course," Yetta assured her. "Will that be cash or charge?"

Mona proudly produced her emerald credit card.

* * *

"How long before we get the results?" Kate asked.

"The lab said they have to do something called digestion before they can analyze the paint for cadmium. From what they told me, it involves breaking it down with nitric acid and takes a while," Castle explained. "Doesn't sound very appetizing. But once they have that done, it will only take a few minutes to get a result. They're going to put a rush on it, so with any luck, tomorrow afternoon."

"Good," Kate said. "And if they don't find anything, my order should arrive the next day, and we can try again."

"I'm not sure whether to hope they find something or not," Castle confessed. "I'd hate to think there's more of that poison out there."

Kate wrapped her arms around him. "I know, but if there isn't, I don't know how else we'll catch Darcy's killer. I talked to the boys while you were gone. They still don't have anything. Listen, I have some good news, Amelia went almost three hours without nursing."

Castle's brows plunged toward his eyes, as the lines between them deepened. "She's not sick, is she?"

"No, I checked. No fever. And she seems pretty happy. We might even get a full night's sleep this century."

"I don't know. I'm beginning to get used to those circles under your eyes," Castle teased. "Kind of endearing, like a panda, but without the fur, except on your slippers."

"Yeah, well I look forward to being able to leave those slippers by the side of the bed until the sun is up."

Castle pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'll just have to find another way to keep your feet warm. And speaking of feet, is Ian home yet?"

"He came in about five minutes before you did. He told me he stopped at Feldman's on the way home; then he went straight up to his room."

"Feldman's huh? I believe we may have found a clue to the lair of the femme fatale. The old-fashioned soda fountain; a traditional garden in which teenage affection may flower. Not many of those left. Feldman's even has those bendy straws. In that romantic venue, my son is no doubt helpless before his hormonal onslaught."

Kate ran her fingertip down the front of his shirt. "Castle, a teenage boy is hopeless before his hormonal onslaught anywhere."

"I don't want to even think about how you know that," Castle declared, sniffing the air. "Sage. Is that roast chicken I smell or are you banishing evil spirits? Sheila Blaine didn't say she was coming over, did she?"

Kate patted his arm. "No evil spirits, your former mother-in-law or anyone else. It's chicken, and those little purple potatoes you like. I finally had a little time to spend in the kitchen. Want to help me with the salad?"

"That, my culinarily ambitious wife, would be my great pleasure."

* * *

Castle knocked on the frame of Ian's door. "Kate made a terrific dinner. Are you coming downstairs?"

"In a minute," Ian answered. "I just want to finish something."

"More Baby Blaster?" Castle asked.

Ian shook his head. "Something else." He scrutinized a drawing Castle couldn't see and shook his head again. "This isn't working. I'll have to try again another way."

"You might want to wash up," Castle advised. "You have a streak of something brown on your face."

"Yeah, okay Dad. I'll do that and be right down."

As his father headed downstairs, Ian stared at the image of Fleur he'd created. It looked like her, but something was missing, a warmth that seemed to surround her. He'd do a much better job if he could draw her live, or at least make some sketches of her to work from. He wasn't sure how to ask. He could try getting some advice from Dad, but it might be better to ask Kate. His father had always said that the female brain was a mystery to him. It wouldn't be a mystery to Kate, at least Ian hoped not. Maybe he could ask her later while his father was writing.

* * *

Despite a giggle that was threatening to erupt, Kate tried her best to look as solemn as her stepson did. "Now let me make sure I understand your problem. You've met a girl. She is incredibly beautiful, and you're trying to figure out how to ask her to let you draw her?"

Ian nodded. "She liked a cartoon I drew, but a portrait is much different. I mean, I want it to really look like her."

"Ian, I can't imagine anything a girl would find more flattering than being asked to model for an artist she admires. But if you're worried about the cartoon thing, show her some of your more serious work. If it were me, I'd love to see it."

"Then I should have a drawing of a beautiful woman to show her. Kate, will you model for me, and not to be a warrior queen, just to be you?"

Kate let a smile creep to her lips. "Ian, I would be honored."


	18. Chapter 18

Ian 2

Chapter 18

"Was there cadmium in the paint?" Kate asked as Castle put down the phone.

"Yes, there was," Castle replied. "We've got our trail now. I need to contact the seller and see if there's any way we can track where it came from."

"If the transactions still originated from a blocked domain, that's going to be hard, Castle."

"There's got to be something we can trace," Castle insisted. "There's always some part of the story that's the vital clue, even if it seems insignificant. At least I can send a message through the 'Contact the seller' function and get our inquiry started."

"We should fill the boys in. You know, we could take Amelia to the precinct. From what Ryan's been telling me, everyone there's been wanting to get a look at her, especially Montgomery."

Castle grinned. "He's always been an old softy. Let's do it. I'll send Ian a text to let him know where we are, but he has SVA this afternoon, so we'll probably be back before he gets home."

* * *

At the top of her impressive voice, Amelia expressed her opposition to entering the elevator at the 12th Precinct. Kate didn't blame her. It smelled like Ryan had bought bean burritos for all the cops in the building. Instead, she and Castle climbed the stairs, knowing from experience how much Amelia appreciated such journeys, the more flights, the better. They puffed into the bullpen. Streams of cops immediately converged on the baby, and Amelia basked in the attention without letting out a single wail.

"Mother may be right about our daughter being destined for the stage," Castle whispered to Kate. "She's enjoying her stardom."

At the edge of the throng, Montgomery reminded everyone that they had work to do, and as the crowd dispersed, began to coo at Amelia himself. "Where are Ryan and Esposito?" Kate asked.

"Couple of homeless guys came in to report a body in a garbage pile under an underpass where they'd been camping out. We sent a blue and white to check it out. Turned out it was a mannequin. The boys are running their would be witnesses over to a shelter where they can clean up and get a meal and beds for the night." Montgomery fanned the air in front of his nose. "They'd been burning some of the garbage and sleeping in the rest of it for warmth. Had to get them out of here. I told Ryan and Esposito I'd get your update on the case."

"That accounts for the distinctive aroma in the elevator. They'll probably have to fumigate their unit." Castle said, handing Montgomery a copy of the lab report and a printout of his online transaction. "Our poison paint purveyor is still engaged in his pursuit."

"Castle, having another kid hasn't slowed down your ability to turn a phrase," Montgomery observed, scanning the pages. "Is this everything?"

"So far," Castle admitted. "But I'm still working on it."

"And I have something in the pipeline too, sir," Kate added.

"Good. Keep at it," Montgomery urged. "Oh, and Evelyn wants to go over to your place to visit the baby."

"Anytime, sir," Kate agreed.

* * *

Ian shifted in his seat. Usually, his class at SVA was interesting enough to keep him from checking the time or thinking about being somewhere else, but at that moment he would have rather been at Feldman's. He would have rather been anywhere where Fleur was, even his Social Studies class. And if he couldn't be with Fleur, he would have rather been home working on his drawing of Kate. She'd been super-patient when he'd sketched her and taken pictures of her so that he could impress Fleur. Ian hadn't told his father what he was trying to do, yet. He was pretty sure Dad would understand, but he was afraid if he talked about Fleur too much, at least until she agreed to let him draw her, he'd jinx things. He wasn't sure he could handle it if Fleur said no."

* * *

"Kate," Castle called to his wife from his office, "I got a response from the vendor who sold me the paint."

Carrying Amelia, Kate came and looked over Castle's shoulder, at the screen. "He's being careful; disclaiming knowledge of any hazards but offering to do anything he can to help identify the true culprit."

"Can't blame the guy," Castle said. "Probably scared to death of being sued or arrested. But that's good, isn't it? He should put some effort into helping us. He's in Pennsylvania. I'm going to request a phone conversation, or better still a Skype or a Facetime."

"That's a good idea," Kate agreed. "It will give us a chance to ask the right questions and see his reaction. We've both investigated enough murders to know that it's the little things that people don't think much about that turn out to be the clues that we need."

"Ah, yes. The very essence of a good mystery."

* * *

"Like I told you, Mr. Castle," Lawrence O'Connell, aka Grtbyz, reiterated, "all my contact with BuyItHere, has been by email, and I used the same one to send money by ."

"How did the packages arrive, Mr. O'Connell?" Kate asked.

"A shipping service. But now that you ask, that was kind of weird. It wasn't one of the regular ones like UPS or Fed-Ex. The stuff just got dropped off by a guy in a van. I remember one of the international drop ship operators used to hire guys like that - until they went belly up. Maybe these guys moved into the hole in the market."

"Do you remember a name?" Kate asked.

O'Connell's shrug was barely visible on the screen. "I'm sorry, I don't. But there was a logo on the van, one of those magnetic stick-ons. Like a bee - no! It was a hummingbird!"

"Thank you," Mr. O'Connell," Kate said. "If you remember anything else at all, you have my husband's email."

"Yeah, actually our conversation will get me a lot of points with my wife. She loves your books, Mr. Castle, has a big stack of them in the bathroom. When she found out I was going to talk to you, she was very excited."

"Is she there?" Castle asked. "I'd be happy to say hello."

Lawrence pushed out of his chair. "Just a minute, I'll get her."

A woman appeared on the screen, rapidly patting he hair into place. "Mrs. O'Connell," Castle greeted her, "a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, call me Velma, please. Imagine, skyping with Richard Castle. I loved your last book. The way you revealed that the head of the terrorist cell was really an agent for CIA and had been the girlfriend of Storm's old partner; that ending was a real humdinger."

"Humdinger!" Lawrence exclaimed. "That was the name of the shipping company, Humdinger Delivery Services!"

"Thank you so much, both of you. You've been a big help!" Castle told the O'Connells.

"Just get that jerk!" Lawrence O'Connell insisted. "I'd hate myself for selling anything that could hurt someone, even if I had no idea I was doing it."

"We'll try our best, Mr. O'Connell," Kate assured him.

After the call ended, Kate pressed a quick kiss to Rick's lips. "Babe, it looks like the Castle mystique scored again. I'll give Ryan and Espo a call and put them on Humdinger. With any luck, we can trace the package of paint sent to Grtbyz, back to the sender."

"You go ahead," Castle said. "I heard Ian come in while we were on the call. I want to check on him."

Castle came to the doorway of Ian's room with a plate full of pizza rolls. "Thought you could use a snack."

Ian was already leaning over a drawing. "Thanks, Dad. I'm just trying to get Kate's cheekbones right. They're very high. That's part of what makes her beautiful."

"Son," Castle said, "I had no idea you were doing her portrait, but as a model, she is an outstanding choice. I'm still discovering more things that make her beautiful, every day."

"Dad, I know how you feel."


	19. Chapter 19

Ian 2

Chapter 19

"That's a big box for a few of tubes of paint," Castle noted as Kate slit open her newly delivered package.

She withdrew another box from inside. "Looks like someone did a little recycling. And look at the logo, Castle. It's a hummingbird! Humdinger Delivery Services."

"I'll run it to the lab anyway, but want to bet what the analysis will show?" Castle asked.

Kate rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I wouldn't take that bet." She pulled out her phone. "I need to call the boys and see what they got from Humdinger. It's our common thread."

"Yeah, we got something, Beckett," Ryan reported. "The shipper used an account associated with an address at a package drop. But here's the thing. The account was set up using an emerald card."

Kate put a fingertip to her lower lip. "Not a lot of those."

"Only ten thousand in the world," Ryan confirmed. "And you have to answer a lot of questions to get one. There are some travel benefits and concierge services that make it easier to do business overseas, but mostly the card's a prestige thing. The cardmembers pay big bucks for the privilege of flashing one around. Espo and I just put the paperwork into the credit card company to trace down who flashed that one."

"Great, Ryan! Let me know as soon as you hear."

"I heard," Castle told Kate, as she tucked her cell back into her pocket. "Our pernicious poisoner's fatal flaw has been revealed as hubris. A more pedestrian form of payment would have been much more difficult to track."

"Right," Kate agreed. "But credit card companies are not known for their speed. We'll probably have the next set of lab results back before Ryan and Espo get the records they requested. Then we'll have double the evidence."

"And double the satisfaction when we collar the bastard," Castle added.

* * *

Ian and Fleur sat side by side at Feldman's, sipping identical egg creams. Ian wiped his lips on a paper napkin, reached into his backpack, and cleared his throat. "I want to show you something." He held up a drawing he'd done of Kate. "This is my stepmom."

"That's beautiful, Ian."

"She is beautiful," Ian agreed.

Fleur shook her head. "She's very pretty, but that's not what I meant. The way you drew her is beautiful. When I look at your drawing, it's like I can feel what she's thinking. You've captured her better than a photograph ever could. You're amazing!"

"You really think so?" Ian asked. "Because I was hoping, I mean if you'll let me, I'd like to draw you."

Fleur reached for his hand. "Ian, I'd love it."

* * *

"Your grin is bigger than the one you carved on your jack-o'-lantern last Halloween," Castle observed as Ian floated into the loft.

"Fleur is going to let me draw her."

"May I assume that Fleur is a young woman?" Castle inquired.

"She's more than that, Dad," Ian insisted. "She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I mean there's no one like her. And what she said when I showed her my drawing of Kate; nobody's ever said anything like that to me before. She's just…. I need to go upstairs and get started."

"Okay, then," Castle said to his son's rapidly retreating back.

Kate came from the bedroom fastening the last button on her blouse. "I caught the last part of what Ian said. I'm glad things worked out for him. I don't think I've ever seen him concentrate so hard on a sketch as when he was drawing me this time."

"Reminds me of when I first started writing about Nikki Heat. He's pouring his emotion into his art. He was capturing you in hopes of capturing the heart of the fascinating Fleur."

"Sounds like he's made a good start," Kate noted.

"Uh huh," Castle agreed, "I just hope she doesn't dash his teenage dreams."

* * *

"The boy wants to draw you?" Jacqueline Clary repeated. "He just wants to get your clothes off."

"No, he doesn't, _Maman_ ," Fleur protested. "He's only going to draw my face. He wants to make some sketches in the art room at school tomorrow, after the eighth period. That room has a big wall of windows, so there's a lot of good light. I won't even be alone with him. There'll be a teacher there, and students working on other projects. I was just telling you because I might have to catch a later bus."

"I still don't like it," Jacqueline insisted. "This could just be the first step to asking you for a lot more."

Fleur's dark eyes flashed. "Why do you insist on thinking the worst of him, _Maman_? Ian's a nice boy, and I like him."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Jacqueline replied, "that you will like him too much."

"Ian doesn't treat me like a slut, but you do!" Fleur stalked off to her room and slammed the door.

* * *

"Kate, she is just adorable," Evelyn Montgomery gushed. "I remember when my girls were that young. I wanted to buy everything in Baby Barn, just to see how cute the things would look on them."

"I know what you mean," Kate said, "but Amelia has a dresser and a closet full of things she needs to grow into."

"She'll be growing out of them again before you know it," Evelyn declared. "And when the little ones start walking, seems like they need new shoes every other week. And even if they don't, you want to buy them anyway. The tiny Mary Janes and sneakers are just so precious."

Kate laughed. "I've got a while before I'll need to worry about that. But I want to get one of those front carriers; you know the ones with the zipper inside so the baby can nurse, and no one knows the difference."

"Those are great," Evelyn agreed. "I had my son in one while I was having dinner with Roy and three of his buddies and none of them had a clue I was serving a dinner of my own. But they grow out of them fast. As soon as Amelia can sit up, you'll want to get a backpack. Then you can keep her with you while you get things done around the house or go shopping. But you might want to cut your hair. Little fingers do love to grab it."

Kate pushed a dark lock behind her ear. "I'd have to think about that. Some big fingers like to grab it too. But it was short when Rick and I met, and he seemed to like it."

"Kate, that man would think you were the most gorgeous woman on Earth if you were bald. Roy and I have always been pleased that you managed to find each other."

"I'm pretty happy about that myself," Kate confided. "And I never pictured myself as a mother or a stepmother, but now I can't imagine not having Ian and Amelia."

"No reason you should," Evelyn proclaimed. "Listen, I've got to go make sure my hungry horde is fed and doing homework, not watching video games. Call me if you need a little mom-to-mom."

"I will, Evelyn, thanks," Kate assured her.

Kate closed the door behind her friend as visions of Amelia with schoolbooks and X-boxes danced before her eyes. Castle had always handled all of that with Ian and still did, but with Amelia, she'd be in the thick of it. She couldn't wait.

A/N My description of Ian's drawing of Kate was inspired by a couple of pieces of Artifex Prime's work that are up on my wall where I can see them while I'm writing. They both portray Nathan better than any photo of him that I have. Artifex Prime is the artist who puts out the Fillion Drawing of the Day on Twitter and Instagram.


	20. Chapter 20

Ian 2

Chapter 20

"We got another positive for cadmium," Castle reported. "Looks like the Emerald Card's very own wicked witch is our culprit."

"I talked to Espo a little while ago, he and Ryan still haven't got anything from the credit card company."

"The more anxiously we wait for it, the more slowly it will come," Castle declared. "Potboiler's law."

Kate bumped him with her hip. "If there's anyone who knows about potboilers, it's you."

"Very true," Castle acknowledged. "Didn't you want to go shopping?"

"Yeah, I wanted to go to Baby Bundling for one of those carriers."

"It's not that far," Castle pointed out, "and you just fed Amelia. I can take care of her if you want some time out by yourself."

"I know you can, Castle, and that's sweet, but I want to make sure the thing fits. I really should take her along."

"Then that's a two-person foray, and I can use some air myself. We could follow our bumpy route uptown and make our daughter happy."

"Sounds good to me, Castle."

* * *

Amelia snuggled contently against the heat of Kate's body in her new blue canvas haven. "This is really working, Babe," Kate proclaimed happily.

"Given that, we could patronize an eatery that doesn't involve shouting our order into a microphone," Castle proposed

"We could," Kate agreed.

"You want to try that place that just opened up, The Pink Bootie? It would seem strangely appropriate, and as I recall, the review in The Ledger was excellent. Their critic described the chocolate raspberry mousse shot, as to die for."

Kate sighed, closing her eyes. "Lead the way, Castle."

* * *

Mona stroked the soft fur of her new prize. It had taken long enough for Berlinger's to have it ready for her and she felt as if she deserved a celebratory lunch. She would have loved to go to Prescott's, but it had closed down after it lost its chef. She'd heard that Roderick had been picked up by a new place, one only a couple of blocks from Berlinger's. She hoped it would be up to her standards. She could already taste a thick filet mignon with buttery baby vegetables.

* * *

"Castle, these baby vegetables are incredible!" Kate exclaimed. "I don't usually like Brussels sprouts, but these are sweet."

"I know, right," Castle agreed. "That's the theme of this place, small and sweet. I'm just glad it doesn't apply to the portions. How's our own tiny but mighty one doing?"

"She's enjoying her meal too."

Castle speared a baby shrimp. "That's great! We can go anywhere with her in that thing! Maybe we can even see a movie in a real theater."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Castle," Kate cautioned. "We haven't even made it through lunch yet."

"Looks like the woman at that table over there enjoyed hers," Castle observed. "She finished it in record time. Or maybe she was just in a hurry to get out of here. She must be sweltering in that coat. I don't know why she wouldn't take it off."

"I don't know either, Castle, but, wow, did you see what she just handed to the waiter? Isn't that an Emerald Card?"

"You're right, Kate. It has that border of green bling that trumpets conspicuous consumption."

"Castle, it's probably a coincidence that we're seeing someone using one today, but just in case…."

"I'll get a picture of her," Castle finished. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he pretended to check his messages, while capturing the best image of the woman that he could.

* * *

Ryan scanned through the list of transactions the credit card company had sent him for M. Seligman. The debits from Humdinger were there in black and white. The owner of the account was the person who sold the paint. Unfortunately, the address listed on the account was the same dead-end mail drop. The DMV had plenty of listings for M. Seligmans, but none with a matching address, so he didn't have a picture. Google had over 100,000 hits for M. Seligmans in the city. There was no way he could check them out. And he didn't even know his M. Seligman was in the city. Anyone could use a mail drop. He was stuck, and the worst thing was that he would have to break the news to Beckett.

* * *

"You're kidding!" Ryan exclaimed.

"No, really Kevin," Kate insisted, "Castle got a picture of a woman who was using an Emerald Card at The Pink Bootie. I can't ask if the place has a credit card receipt for an M. Seligman, but you or Espo can. Ask Espo to do it. He sounds more threatening."

"Alright, Beckett," Ryan agreed. "It's not like we have anything else. But if this pans out, you and Castle ought to consider investing in lottery tickets."

"I'll leave that to you," Kate said. "Just ask Javi to make the call."

* * *

With the light from the windows slanting down on her, Ian couldn't help thinking that Fleur looked like an angel. She didn't need wings or a harp, just the glow around her. She was dressed a little like an angel too. Her white dress set off the rich shade of her skin. Not that he was drawing much of it, just what softly covered her face and neck. But it was enough. He had more than enough sketches to work from for her portrait, but he didn't want to stop. The room would be available for another half hour, and he had a few more pages in his pad. He noticed the sparkle fading from her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"It's getting late, Ian, and - you don't know my _Maman_. She has all kinds of ideas in her head. She'll think we're… you're… I just need to go before the next bus leaves."

"Fleur, you're not mad at me for making you sit there so long, are you?"

"Omigod, Ian, no. It's just that _Maman_ doesn't trust boys or men, not even my father. I don't know why. She said it's about the way the tourists treat the women on Martinique, but I don't think so. My father never even looked at any of the tourists, except when they came into his bank needing his help with something. But whenever he's gone away on business, she's always checked his pockets and smelled his clothes to see if there's any perfume on them. I've seen her checking his boarding passes too. It's crazy, and she's always telling me to be careful and never be alone with a boy."

Ian swallowed. "Would she let you go to a movie or something? Like a date, but in a theater full of people?"

"I don't know. On Martinique, I was only allowed to go to the movies or out to eat with my girlfriends. And she called their parents to make sure I was with them. But sometimes we met boys and sat with them. I had a boy buy me a soda once." The corners of her mouth twitched. "Nothing like an egg cream. But I've never been on a real date. Have you dated a lot of girls?"

"Only a couple," Ian replied hurriedly. "But I never… I mean we'd go to an anime festival and then get a burger or something. I just had to make sure they were home by curfew, but except for that, I don't think it was a problem with their parents." His shoulders hunched as he sighed. "I guess your Mom is different. I don't want to get you in trouble. I'll stop drawing now and walk you to your bus."


	21. Chapter 21

Ian 2

Chapter 21

Castle looked up from his chair, as Ian dragged into the loft. "Uh oh, weren't you drawing Fleur this afternoon? Why the frowny face?"

"Dad, have you ever had a girl's mom hate you?"

"You mean besides your Grandmother Blaine? A few, but I could usually charm or grovel my way out of it. Why? Did you meet up with Fleur's mother?"

"That's just it. I haven't met her, but she hates me anyway. From what Fleur says, her mom hates any boy who gets near her. I don't know what to do."

Castle stroked the stubble forming on his jaw. "Sometimes you can't do anything. Sometimes people just act like that because they've been hurt somehow. If you really like Fleur, you have to go along with whatever rules her mother sets and hope that things will eventually smooth out. But maybe there's something Kate and I can do, if we can meet up with her parents socially. Absolutely by accident, of course. What do you know about them? Last name?"

"Clary, or at least that's Fleur's last name. They're from Martinique. I think her Dad works for a bank - or did on Martinique. From what Fleur said about him, he sounds okay. I don't know what her mother does."

"Hmm," Castle considered, "a bank. He couldn't have moved to the U.S. without a job, and if a bank transferred him to New York, he's likely to be highly placed. I have friends who move in financial circles; I'll see what I can find out."

"Just don't get Fleur in trouble, Dad," Ian cautioned.

Castle put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I won't, I promise."

* * *

Castle stared at the Moses Shannon mini-novel slowly taking form on his screen. With the tortured look on Ian's face still swimming in his brain, he was having a hard time concentrating. The strains of Macho Man that alerted Kate that she was getting a call from Esposito drifted in from the bedroom. Stiffly, he pushed out of his chair and walked the few steps it took to reach his wife.

Kate saw Castle come in and thumbed the speaker button. "For once I think Ryan's right," the irascible cop, on the other end of the call, declared. "You and Castle should try for the Powerball. You definitely defied the odds. There was only one receipt for an Emerald Card at The Pink Bootie, and it was for an M. Seligman. We ran facial recognition on the picture Castle sent. Her name is Mona Seligman. She's in the system from a teacher's ID, but you don't get no coat like that on a teacher's salary. Teachers don't qualify for Emerald Cards either. That woman has big bucks coming in from somewhere. The paint is just part of it."

"It's the part of it we care about, Espo. So, did you get a street address?"

"Uh huh. Up on the border of Harlem, the gentrified part, one of those refurbed brownstones. Ryan and I are gonna go pick her up."

Castle held up his hand for a high five and Kate slapped it enthusiastically. "Let me know when you have her, Javi."

"You got it, Beckett!"

* * *

With Amelia quietly in her carrier, Kate and Castle gazed through the window in observation as Mona Seligman fidgeted opposite Ryan and Esposito. "We've traced your transactions. Ms. Seligman," Ryan stated. "The paper trail is clear. You imported cadmium containing paint into this country and arranged for it to be sold without the proper warnings. As a result, at least one person has died, and a number were sickened. As we investigate further, no doubt we'll find more victims."

"I didn't know about anything hazardous," Mona insisted.

Esposito shook his head as he opened a file. "These say you did. Shipping manifests. Paint, cadmium yellow, cadmium red. And here, the customs forms, listing the pigments as iron oxides which would be legal to import. You falsified those records. That makes it a federal offense, and not your only one. You sold across state lines."

"We've already liaised with the FBI," Ryan continued. "As far as both the D.A. of New York and the Feds are concerned, about the only way you can help yourself now, is by helping us trace down every tube of that paint before you hurt or kill anyone else."

"I want a lawyer!" Mona declared.

"Yeah, well You better call a good one," Esposito retorted.

* * *

Castle gently laid a sleeping Amelia in her bassinet, and he and Kate quietly backed away, before turning toward the kitchen. Castle filled two mugs with coffee. "I guess Amelia isn't the only one being put to bed. Between, Ryan, Esposito, U.S. Customs and the FBI, Mona Seligman is going to be down for the count. And I don't think she's going to be allowed to wear ermine over her orange scrubs. It would clash anyway."

"You are not displaying your usual enthusiasm over a closed case, Babe," Kate observed.

Castle raked back his hair. "I'm trying to figure out a way to help Ian. I checked up on the Clarys. Ian was right about Roger Clary being a banker. He was a vice president of the Martinique branch of the Banque Française. Helped launch quite a few successful businesses, which is why he was transferred to New York. No one seems to know much about Fleur's mother, Jacqueline, other than her family has been on Martinique for generations, and her father was a big shot of sorts but became estranged from the rest of his family after suffering a fall from grace for some reason. 'I'm sure there's a lot more to that story which may account for Jacqueline's attitude toward men."

"So, what are you planning to do?" Kate queried.

"There's a cocktail party coming up, the celebration for the closing of a merger underwritten by the Banque Française. I hold enough stock to wangle an invitation. Maybe I can strike up a conversation with Roger. If you're comfortable with having a sitter stay with Amelia for a couple of hours, or letting Ian watch her, you could come with me. If Fleur's mother is there, she might be willing to talk to another woman."

"Um. I don't want to put watching Amelia on Ian until she's a little older. But maybe Evelyn would like to take Amelia for an evening. I could ask her. Or maybe Helen Mays, since she's right in the building. It's been a long time since we had a night out, and I'm curious myself about the family of the girl who has so entranced my stepson. "Yeah, go ahead and set it up, Babe."

Castle returned to his laptop, whistling. He had a brand-new idea for Moses Shannon. The archaeologist P.I. could be on a dig on an isolated island, with expedition underwritten by a shady financier with a mysterious wife. Perhaps she would believe she was the reincarnation of some goddess whose powers would be restored by the unearthing of ancient artifacts. She could convince her husband that the dig would make him rich beyond all imaginings, but they would have to eliminate all pretenders. Moses would figure out the plot and defeat it. Castle had to admit to himself that the story was a little Scooby-dooish, but then the books were supposed to be friendly to young adult readers. Now, if he could only induce Fleur's family to be friendly. Hell, Kate had gained the confidence of most apprehensive witnesses on murder cases. If anyone could win over Jacqueline Clary, she could.


	22. Chapter 22

Ian 2

Chapter 22

Kate regarded the crowd in Mercury Ballroom of the Olympia Hotel. The affair was more subdued than the usual parties Castle threw or attended. A band was playing standards, but although there was a small dance floor, no one was using it. The guests sat at tables or huddled in groups around the room. The scraps of conversations she picked up included phrases like "repatriation of assets" and "return on investment." They were not discussions she could easily join, but she did notice several pairs of eyes evaluating her. Her outfit was not what she would have normally chosen for a party. Part of the reason for her selection had been the wish to keep her nursing bra, with its substantial pads to absorb leaks, well concealed. The rest had been based on a warning from Castle that the mode of dress, if formal, would be tilted more toward business than pleasure. She'd taken his advice, in that she wore a suit over a blouse with the type of masculine lines she might have chosen for a day in the bullpen when the brass was coming through on an inspection. Her jacket and skirt, however, were of soft gray cashmere. The shape was simple, and the feel warm and inviting. If she did meet up with Jacqueline Clary, she hoped her appearance would pose no threat.

Castle's ears strained to find an exchange he could join without sounding like an idiot. His expertise in financial matters extended as far as a deep appreciation for royalties and knowing when to put in an emergency call to his business manager. Fortunately, there was a group near the bar talking about the changing face of publishing and where profits could still be made. That subject was well withing his sphere of expertise. He asked the bartender for two fingers of Scotch, neat, and joined the discourse. The financial whizzes seemed genuinely pleased to have a best-selling author share his experience, and kept him engaged, while Kate wandered around, trying to spot the Clarys. Castle had dug up a picture of Roger Clary, and Kate assumed that if Jacqueline showed up, she'd come in with him.

Kate spotted the Clarys on the other side of the room. Robert Clary was pale. From his name, Kate suspected that at one point, at least, his family might have been part of the Jewry that had been more welcome in France than in many other European countries before and during World War II. Jacqueline's skin was darker than the shade Ian had portrayed on his drawing of Fleur. If Ian's description and rendering were accurate, the pairing had clearly produced a stunning daughter. The couple drifted toward the bar, and Kate observed that of the two, Jacqueline ordered the more potent drink. While Roger circulated to greet a few business associates, Jacqueline sank into a chair, sullenly drawing up her beverage through a pair of cocktail straws. Without asking for permission, Kate slipped into the chair beside her. "I find events like this deadly dull, don't you?" Kate asked. "The men go off by themselves and leave us with nothing to do but drink and nibble unexceptional hors-d'oeuvres. I'd be willing to bet the shrimp are at least two days old. Seafood isn't worth eating unless it's fresh from the boat."

" _Oui_ ," Jacqueline agreed, "Where I come from, you can get fish on the dock, or a market nearby. In this city, most of the fish the women buy is frozen. I'm surprised their husbands put up with it."

"Most of the men don't know any better," Kate offered. "And their interests are in business and - other things. I've never caught my husband wandering, but I put a lot of effort into making sure that wherever my he reads the menu, he takes his meals at home - if you know what I mean.

Jacqueline nodded vigorously. " _Absolument_ , you never know when a man will turn to the younger, the fresher. _Mon père_ …." Jacqueline's shoulders slumped as she shook her head. Kate patted her on the arm. "I understand. Men can be pigs, but there are good ones. My father loved my mother until the day she died. It almost killed him when she passed. And my stepson is a very sweet boy. My daughter was born just a few weeks ago, so it will be a while before I have to worry about her."

"It will come sooner than you think," Jacqueline warned. "My daughter is seventeen, and the boys have been sniffing around her for years. I have to keep an eye on her every moment. There is one now. He buys things for her after school. She says he is an artist and wants to draw her, but I'm afraid of what he'll want next."

"Have you met him?" Kate asked.

" _Non_ ," Jacqueline admitted.

"He could mean no harm," Kate suggested. "I know my stepson would never take advantage of a girl. Your daughter might have found someone like him. You can't really know unless you do meet him. "Is there some sort of school affair where he might be, where you can size him up? If he's a snake, you can make sure your daughter stays away from him, but if not, you'd be able to breathe a bit."

Jacqueline took another sip of her drink. " _Peut-être_. I believe there is a student art show. Fleur, my daughter, has already asked to attend."

"Then you should go with her," Kate advised. "If the boy is there, then you can decide about him for yourself."

Jacqueline ran her finger up and down the side of her glass. "That is wise. And if this boy is a _chien_ , I will see that he is kept on a leash."

* * *

"Looks like you had a successful mission with Jacqueline," Castle noted in the cab as he and Kate were returning home.

"I'm not sure," Kate admitted. "She said she'd try to meet Ian - she doesn't know he's my stepson - before making up her mind about him, but he'll still have to convince her. From what she told me, her father was a real dog in the manger, and I doubt she's trusted anyone with a penis since she became aware of his inclinations. Ian's going to have an uphill battle, even if he has inherited his father's charm."

"Oh, I think he's way surpassed any charm I have," Castle offered. "Ian doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body. People have always picked up on that. I suspect that Jacqueline will too if she gives him a chance. But if she doesn't, I don't think there's enough pizza and ice cream in the world to fill the hole it will tear in his gut."

"My gut is getting a little uneasy," Kate confessed. "We've been away from Amelia for almost three hours. I pumped some milk and left it with Helen Mays. But still…."

Castle shifted in his seat and pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet. At the next red light, He pushed it into the slot for paying the cab driver, letting half of it protrude. "Get us where we're going in the next ten minutes, and this will be your tip." Eight minutes later, the Castles arrived at the loft, as Amelia's siren was just beginning to wail. Castle checked his watch. They'd been gone three and a half hours on the dot. That period of time would not be long enough to take Kate to dinner and a movie on their next outing, but it would be a start.


	23. Chapter 23

Ian 2

Chapter 23

To avoid the instant recognition of Kate by Jacqueline, Castle accompanied Ian to his high school art show, without her. The works that Ian displayed were mostly cartoons, but also included a more serious portrait of Amelia, entitled - with some help from Rick - "Diminutive Diva." With his stomach doing flip flops, Ian had also decided to show a portrait of Fleur. He took a post near his offerings, ready to answer questions. There weren't many queries. Most of the attendees were other students, teachers, and parents. They milled around eating home-baked cookies, and drinking coffee out of Styrofoam cups. It was twenty minutes before Fleur entered the exhibit area, followed closely by a woman Ian guessed was her mother. He could immediately see similarities in the shapes of their eyes and jawlines.

Fleur motioned Jacqueline over to where Ian shuffled from foot to foot, rubbing his hands against the fabric of his pants legs. " _Maman_ , this is Ian."

Ian swallowed. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Clary. I…."

"We'll see about that," Jacqueline cut him off.

Rick watched from near the refreshment table, wondering if he would need to go to his son's aid, but hoping the necessity wouldn't arise. Jacqueline surveyed the cartoons Ian had drawn, sniffing her disapproval before she came to his drawing of Amelia. " _Qui est-ce_?"

Fleur mouthed, "Who is it?" at Ian.

He nodded that he understood. "That's my baby sister. But she's already grown since I drew it."

"Girls will do that, _très vite_." Jacqueline rasped, before moving on to the portrait of Fleur. Her daughter looked serene. A high collar covered most of Fleur's neck, and an aura of sunlight surrounded her. As hard as she stared, Jacqueline could detect no lechery in Ian's rendering of Fleur, but the love contained in every line was obvious. "You have made my little girl look beautiful."

"Fleur didn't need any help from me to be beautiful, Mrs. Clary," Ian protested. "I just drew her as she looks to me."

Jacqueline nodded slowly. "Indeed."

Castle felt his shoulders relax as he watched Jacqueline's body language. The stiffness with which she'd held herself had softened. Ian's soul radiated from his art as clearly as Fleur's beauty did, and Jacqueline couldn't help being drawn by it. On this day, at least, his son's heart would not be broken.

* * *

Kate snuggled into Castle's shoulder as Amelia drowsed in her bassinet following what Kate hoped was the baby's last feeding until sunrise. "Ian could have made it to his room without taking the stairs tonight. I think he could have just floated up."

"I think you're right," Castle agreed. "Who knows what will happen with young love? Tonight, Fleur is the most beautiful girl in the world. Next week, next month, next year, it could be someone else. But this thing with Fleur, I have a gut feeling that Ian's found his other half."

Kate stroked his arm. "They are very young, but my parents met at about that age. They were high school sweethearts. I think that's probably why my mother's death nearly destroyed my father. He'd never loved another woman. I think he believes he never will."

"I can understand that," Castle said. "It was exactly the way I felt after Ian's mother died. It seemed like a good idea at the time to marry Gina, but I never felt the way about her that I did about Kyra. I thought I was finished with love - except for Ian." He pulled Kate close. "But I was wrong, and I can't imagine loving any woman more than I love you."

"And I…," Kate began before her phone played "Londonderry Air." "There's only one reason why Ryan would be calling me at this time of night. It's got to be a murder, a weird one."

"Beckett, I'm sorry if I disturbed you," the cop apologized, "but this case is right in your wheelhouse, Castle's too. I'm sending you a picture."

Kate and Rick surveyed the small screen together. A symbol painted on the ground, looked like a four-paned window, with a body serving as one of the horizontal crosspieces. "What the Hell!" Kate muttered, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Amelia.

"Like I said, weird," Ryan confirmed. "A body as a sacrifice to a window on the universe?"

"That's not a window," Castle interjected. "See the difference in the thickness of the lines and the feet-like things at the bottom; I recognize that configuration from research I've done for my books. It's the Chinese symbol for strength. Someone is trying to show power, or perhaps gain it, through taking a life."

"What do we know about the victim?" Kate asked.

"Prints ID'd him as Kato Finch," Ryan replied. "Been picked up a couple of times for assault. I can send you his jacket. Perlmutter said Finch's jugular was sliced open and he would have bled out very quickly. But there was no blood here, so he was killed somewhere else. Time of death was a couple of hours ago."

"Did Perlmutter identify the murder weapon?" Castle inquired.

"He said the edges of the wound were smooth, so the blade wasn't serrated, and that it would have had to be razor sharp, but that he wouldn't be able to tell us more until he got the body back to the lab."

"Typical Perlmutter," Castle commented. "I bet he was smiling when he described how Finch's throat had been cut."

"You nailed it, Castle, he was. So, any theories about ancient Chinese ceremonies?"

"Not yet, Castle admitted. "But I'll work on it."

"We'll talk to you later, Kevin," Kate put in, ending the call.

Castle lay back on the bed with his forearm across his eyes. "What's knocking around in your brain, Babe?" Kate asked.

"I'm just wondering about the connection between the symbol and a small-time thug, and wishing I could summon Moses Shannon out of the written page. He's great at solving puzzles like this."

"Castle, the only reason Moses Shannon is good at puzzles is because you are. His solutions don't just come into being; you have to write them. And you don't borrow them from some of our old cases, either, like you did with some of the Nikki Heats. They're all you. Listen, I know how this works. You rack your brain trying to figure something out and then it suddenly just comes to you. It's been a long emotional day. Let's go to sleep while Amelia's quiet and see what springs from your imagination in the morning."

"You're right," Castle agreed. "First rule of parenting an infant. Never throw away an opportunity to sleep."

"Or to get in a good cuddle," Kate added. "We can do both."

Castle rolled on his side to face her. "Yes, yes we can certainly can." He gently pulled her against him, their lips meeting in soft warmth.

The hair on the nape of his neck curled over Kate's fingertips. She hadn't noticed how much, in the frantic weeks since Amelia was born, he'd allowed it to grow out from its usual precisely trimmed line. It lent a boyishness to him that she found endearing. She pressed more tightly against his body. The check-up to clear her for more than the limited, if creative, pleasuring of each other they'd been doing, wasn't scheduled for another two weeks. "Maybe," she mused silently, "I can get the doctor to move it up a little."


	24. Chapter 24

Ian 2

Chapter 24

Phillip Wang brushed his palm across the ancient wood of the intricately carved desk that he'd had shipped at great cost from China. His father had sat behind that desk, and his grandfather before him. It had always been a place of power, from where directives were issued and followed without question. He'd hoped that spirit that imbued it would yield similar obedience to his family's will in New York, but it appeared that there were further steps to take before that hope would be realized. The night before, the first of those tasks had been completed. The details had yet to hit the news media, likely held back by the police, but there were other forms of communication. He did not doubt that his message was already out there. As the ritual proceeded, his soldiers would make sure that the display of his strength would be understood - and feared.

* * *

"The murder weapon was a Chinese butterfly sword," Perlmutter announced gleefully.

"That makes zero sense, Perlmutter," Esposito insisted. "Even in New York, a dude walking around carrying a sword would be noticed. The canvass turned up nada."

"That, Detective Esposito," Perlmutter returned triumphantly, "is because butterfly swords are short. They can be hidden in sleeves, often in pairs, although that did not appear to be necessary in this case. And as I previously pointed out, the actual killing did not take place at the crime scene. Look here at the body." Perlmutter pointed to Kato Finch's neck. "See that small bruise at the end of the stroke? Only half the blade of a butterfly sword is sharpened, so the weapon can also be used to apply blunt force. And there is more evidence, bruising at the back of Finch's skull. The sword was used to stun and then to exsanguinate. You have to appreciate the efficiency of the process."

"You appreciate it, Perlmutter," Ryan put in. "We're more interested in locating the killer. Have anything useful for that?"

Perlmutter fixed the detectives with an icy stare. "There was a hair on the body, not belonging to Finch. No root, so we can't get DNA, but from the color and shape, it would appear to be Asian."

"An Asian hair on a body found lying on a Chinese symbol and killed with a Chinese sword," Esposito retorted. "You're not exactly making any points here, Perlmutter."

"X-rays of Finch's hands also showed that his knuckles had been broken several times. The man liked beating on people," Perlmutter added sullenly.

"Which goes along with his record for assault," Esposito noted.

The partners left, shaking their heads. "A guy, probably Chinese, kills Finch with a Chinese sword. What are we supposed to do with that?" Esposito wondered.

"We track down anyone, especially an Asian, known to use a butterfly sword," Ryan replied.

* * *

"A butterfly sword," Castle considered as Kate repeated the information Ryan had relayed to her. "So, someone is walking around the city with swords up his sleeves. I suppose that's a change from the daggers up the sleeves so common in movies. The swords wouldn't work well with cuffs; they'd require sleeves like those on a kimono. You don't see many people walking around in kimonos, even in Chinatown."

"That's true," Kate agreed. "Someone dressed like that would stand out. Ryan is scrubbing video, but the problem is he doesn't know where to look. Whoever transported the body to the crime scene could have been wearing regular street clothes, and would have needed a vehicle. You usually can't see what a driver is wearing on the video from a traffic cam, anyway."

"Then maybe we should attack the problem from a different angle," Castle suggested. "To produce that symbol on the ground, someone would have needed paint - a lot of it. They also would have needed time for the paint to dry. There might have been more than one person involved. That symbol could have been painted while the killer was employing his blade. Let's call Ryan back. I have an idea."

Kate patted his cheek. "I knew you would."

* * *

"Has the lab analyzed the paint used to make the symbol yet?" Castle asked. "You can't just use any paint on concrete. With any luck, CSU should have been able to come up with a type, and possibly even a brand."

"Yeah, Castle," Ryan replied, through the phone. "Their report came in just a minute ago. You were right. It is pretty specialized stuff, traffic marking paint. Only one company makes it in black. Hang on. I'm checking where it's sold." Ryan's fingers flew over his keyboard. "Only three distributors in the Greater New York area and none of them close to the crime scene."

"Which one's the closest?" Castle asked.

"Industrial supply house in Connecticut. "I guess Javi and I will be taking a ride."

"That should keep the boys busy for a while," Castle observed as he hung up the phone. "Seems like everything has been hanging on paint around here lately. First the death of Ian's friend Darcy, now this case. I suppose with an artist in the house; it might be the universe making some kind of statement."

"The universe certainly made one in the way Ian's drawing of Fleur won Jacqueline Clary over. He hasn't come down from his cloud yet," Kate observed.

"I know. I had to remind him to take his backpack this morning. He always keeps a sketch pad in there. The last time he didn't have one with him was at the hospital when you went into labor with Amelia. And before that, I can't even remember a time - within the last few years, at least. He is making some progress on his Baby Blaster comic, though. He told me it's almost ready to print out. I ordered more ink for my printer."

"It's going to be fun to watch how the customers at Comicadia respond to it, especially the kids," Kate offered.

"It will only be fun if the response is positive. There's nothing pleasant about having a book bomb."

"When have you ever had a book bomb, Castle?"

" _Tyrannosaurus Sex_. A couple making love at night in the dinosaur exhibit of a museum was killed by a jealous lover who caused the skeleton of a tyrannosaurus rex to fall on them. He had a slow acting acid that ate through the wire holding the bones together."

"I don't think I read that one."

"Neither did anyone else. It ended up in the bargain bin at Pick and Save. Black Pawn almost dropped me after that. Fortunately, my next book made enough money to convince them to do otherwise. It hurt, and no matter how well my books sell now, I'll always remember it. I don't want to have to see Ian go through anything like that, especially not at his age. As I recall my teen years, every failure was magnified into a world-ending catastrophe."

"I know what you mean," Kate agreed. "When I was seventeen, I wrote a song, and when I tried it out at an open mic night at the local coffee house, the coughs were interrupted only by deafening silence. I didn't pick up my guitar again for years."

"I didn't know you played one anymore. It's been sitting in the corner of your closet ever since you moved into the loft."

"I still do sometimes when no one's around," Kate admitted. "I don't want an audience."

"Seems to me you've never had a problem making beautiful music. So, if you're ever willing to have an audience of one, I promise not to heckle."

Kate squeezed his hand. "I'll keep that in mind."


	25. Chapter 25

Ian 2

Chapter 25

The high padded walls of the booth at The Thorn where Phillip Wang and Robert Shayne sat, precluded any chance that they would be overheard. "Seems that your boy Kato met with an unfortunate accident," Wang said.

"Now and again one of my soldiers will cut himself shaving," Shayne replied. "Price of doing business, But the business will go on."

"It will, but not by your hand, Shayne," Wang declared. "Your territory was seized years ago from my people. I am taking it back."

"Boyo, you don't declare checkmate by taking out a pawn," Shayne responded. "The game is never over until the king falls, and this king has strong armor and a loyal army."

"There is always one stronger," Wang pointed out, "and my strength grows by the day. You should recognize that Shayne, while you still remain upright on the board."

Shayne downed his whiskey in a gulp and rose in his seat. "We'll see who's the last man standing."

* * *

"Did you see the guy talking to Mr. Feldman?" Ian asked. " Mr. Feldman looked scared, and the other man looked mean. I wonder if he's running a protection racket."

Fleur licked the long plastic spoon she had stuck in her glass to get some chocolate syrup that had failed to mix into her drink. "That sounds like something out of one of your father's books or your comics, Ian. They could have been talking about anything."

Ian shook his head. "If there's anything I know, it's expressions and body language. I use them in my drawings every day. The way the other man leaned in on Mr. Feldman, that was a threat. Villains do it to their victims and heroes do it to villains. And look at Mr. Feldman now. He's sweating, and it's not that warm in here. You and I still have our jackets on. He's scared, Fleur."

"He could call the police," Fleur suggested.

"He should," Ian agreed, "but I don't see him doing it. He might be afraid of getting his place wrecked or getting beat up." Ian pulled his sketch pad out of his backpack.

"What are you doing?" Fleur asked.

"I'm drawing the guy who was threatening Mr. Feldman, while his face is fresh in my mind. I'm going to show it to Kate and my dad. They'll know what to do."

"I hope so. I don't want anything to happen to Mr. Feldman, and I could make an egg cream myself, by now, but being with you is what makes coming to school, worth it. I don't know what I'd do if we couldn't be here together anymore."

"We'd find another way to be together," Ian assured her. "But I don't want anything to happen to Mr. Feldman, either."

* * *

Kate regarded Ian's drawing before passing it to Castle. "Asian, probably Chinese, but their gangs don't usually do business in that neighborhood."

"Maybe they're launching an expansion," Castle suggested.

"Ian, we can scan your drawing and send it to the precinct," Kate continued. "They might be able to get an ID. If that man was doing what you think he was, the Gangs unit might know who he is. But even if they do, the N.Y.P.D. won't be able to do much unless Mr. Feldman files a complaint."

Ian ran his hand through his hair, adding to its usual dishevelment. "I think Mr. Feldman may be too scared to do that."

Castle sighed and shook his head. "That's how protection works, It's all about fear."

* * *

"Londonderry Air" intruded into Kates consciousness just after she'd finished feeding Amelia the next morning. "Beckett, are you psychic or something?' Ryan asked.

"Ryan, what are you talking about?" Kate asked. "you know I don't believe in that kind of crap."

"Well maybe you should," Ryan suggested. "The drawing that you sent, the one of the guy Ian thought was threatening the soda shop owner, it matches a murder victim."

"Another one with the Chinese symbol?" Kate asked.

"No symbols, just the hallmark of the gang run by Shayne, one in the chest, one at the base of the skull and the pockets cut out of the pants. If Ian was right, our victim, or whoever he was working for, might have been trying to muscle in on Shayne's territory, and paid the price."

"Has Gangs heard anything about a war brewing?" Kate wondered.

"Not that they've told me," Ryan said.

Castle strode into the bedroom with two mugs of coffee and handed one to Kate. "Is that Ryan?"

Kate put the phone on speaker and quickly recapped the conversation for Rick. "Hey, Castle," Ryan added. "Javi and I got some information on that paint. It was shipped to a warehouse in Chinatown. A holding company owns the building. We're still trying to figure out who's behind it."

"Chinatown makes sense, with the Chinese symbol," Castle mused, "but I wonder, is there any chance Kato Finch might have been an enforcer for Shayne? If someone in Chinatown is trying to take over Shayne's territory and wanted to send a message about their power, the strength symbol murder could have been a way to do it, both to Shayne and to the locals. The body you found this morning might have been Shayne returning the compliment."

"You could be right, Castle," Ryan replied grimly. "And if you are, we could see a lot more bodies."

"And innocents getting caught in the crossfire," Kate added. "If a war is starting we need to stop it now."

* * *

"Dad, Fleur loves Feldman's, and it's right near our school," Ian grieved.

"I know son. It's a special spot for you and Fleur, but I need you to find another one for a while. Until the murders are resolved, Feldman's just may not be safe. I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you, and I know you don't want anything happening to Fleur."

"Of course not Dad, but I need to figure out where can we go. There's no McDonalds or Burger King between school and Fleur's bus stop. There's just a laundromat and a bunch of apartment buildings."

"How about at school?" Castle suggested. "At every school I attended, there was always some nook or cranny that was never used, or was used only a few times during the year. There were a couple that I used to hide out in and write. I even stocked them with snacks."

Ian closed his eyes, and the layout of the school took form in his mind. There's the projection booth above the auditorium. I heard it used to be used all the time, but with computers and power points, no one's been in it since the nineties. I think the kids are afraid to go up there now."

Castle nodded. "Ah, haunted by images from a celluloid past. It sounds perfect, except for decades of dust. If you and Fleur do decide to hang out there for a few minutes after school, you'll probably have to clean the place up."

"I don't mind, Dad, as long as Fleur and I will have a place to talk until it's time for her to catch her bus. I have SVA tomorrow, but I can get into the room at lunch time and check it out. If there aren't any rats or anything, I'll talk to Fleur and see what she says about meeting there."

"Whatever wildlife is there can't be worse than the rats trying to infest Feldman's" Castle muttered as Ian bounded away.


	26. Chapter 26

Ian 2

Chapter 26

Girding himself against the appearance of skittering creatures, Ian climbed the stairs to the projection room. He'd expected to see cobwebs or at least a buildup of dust, but there was none. When he approached the top of the stairs, he could see a figure looking down on him. "Mrs. Belkin!"

"Hello Ian, I wasn't expecting company."

Ian looked around. The room was larger than he'd expected, and light poured in from a south facing window, falling on a canvas held by an easel. "Mrs. Belkin, is this your studio?"

"Not officially," Mrs. Belkin explained, "but the art room is for you students to work in, not for me, and one of my children has developed a sensitivity to the solvents I use to clean my brushes at home. No one uses this room anymore, so I set up here. No one except the principal knows I use the place, and she pretends that she doesn't. What brings you to the top of the school?"

Ian shuffled nervously. "Exploring."

"Come on, Ian. From your drawings, I know how well you understand expressions. As an artist and a teacher, I understand them too, and I can see that there's something you're not telling me. Let me guess. It has to do with the young lady you so affectionately portrayed in the drawing you displayed at the art exhibit. You need a love nest."

Ian flushed. "It's not like that, Mrs. Belkin. Fleur and I need a place to talk for a few minutes after school, just until she takes her bus home. We had one, but we can't use it anymore. And I want to do more drawings of her, too."

Mrs. Belkin's mouth showed no hint of turning upward, but her eyes brightened. "Looks like you've found a muse. Fine, you and Fleur are welcome after school, I'll be busy slogging through paperwork anyway, and you can be a second pair of eyes for my works in progress. We'll keep each other's confidences."

"Really?"

"Really. Now get yourself down to the cafeteria. Boys your age grow too fast to miss meals."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

Phillip Wang's dark eyes flashed. "We must strike back and strike back quickly. Feng was a good man and his death cannot go unavenged."

"Shayne's men will be on the alert now," Cong Wang pointed out.

"It won't matter," Phillip insisted. "Fan will strike from the shadows. His sword will make no sound, nothing to betray his presence. The message for Shayne will be repeated - in blood. And send someone to Feng's territory to remind the merchants there to keep their insurance up to date. We can't allow Shayne's actions to slow the expansion of our influence."

"Yes, _bàba_."

* * *

Saul Feldman had had enough. After coming to the shores of the U.S. with a number tattooed on his arm and visions of the camps ingrained in his memory, Saul's grandfather had started his store, selling penny candy and nickel sodas. It was one of the few places that survived without the benefit of a corporate logo or advertising campaigns. Everyone in the neighborhood and many New Yorkers who lived nowhere nearby knew Feldman's. Saul would not allow the family legacy to be ruined by buckling under to some new self-styled tyrant. He pulled out his phone. Whatever happened, he would not give up without a fight.

* * *

Two detectives in an unmarked N.Y.P.D. unit were watching when the man carrying the briefcase strode into Feldman's Fountain and Emporium. A beep sounded from their dashboard as Feldman activated his wire. "You have been a stubborn man, Mr. Feldman," Hong declared. "Bad things can happen to stubborn men - and their property."

The color drained from Feldman's face as Hong stared menacingly, leaning across the counter. "What do you want?"

"I believe you have already been informed of that, but I will refresh your memory. It is a small price to pay to protect what you treasure the most. Four hundred fifty dollars a week."

"That's more than 25 percent of my profits," Feldman protested.

"Which would leave you with something considerably better than no profits at all. Serving your customers with broken knees would be difficult. And consider what an accidental fire would do for business. Four hundred and fifty dollars, first installment payable now."

Feldman swallowed, wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. "Alright. You win." He opened his cash register and started counting out bills. Hong handed him an envelope marked with Chinese characters. "Put that in here before you hand it to me."

Feldman did as he was instructed and handed back the newly stuffed envelope. "Here's your tribute."

"That's the signal," Detective Hernandez said, opening his car door. Detective Duffy quickly followed, pulling his weapon from its holster. They approached Hong just as he left Feldman's. "Sir, you are under arrest for extortion."

* * *

"Beckett, we have good news and bad news," Ryan reported.

"I'll take the good news first," Kate replied, striding from the kitchen to Rick's office.

"A man named Hong Chen was arrested for extorting money from one Saul Feldman. He's been identified as a soldier for the Wang family. He's not talking, of course, but now we know that it's the Wangs who have been expanding their territory. They'll be under surveillance, as will Feldman and his emporium, to make sure there's no retaliation against him."

"So, what's the bad news?" Kate asked.

"There's been another murder, Brian Cook, Shayne's nephew. Perlmutter says it's the same weapon, possibly the same killer. No paint this time, but maybe something worse. The strength symbol was written on the pavement in Cook's blood."

Castle scrubbed a hand over his face as he heard the words emanating from Kate's phone. "That means the war will be escalating."

"You got that right, Castle," Esposito chimed in.

"We did finally trace the ownership of the warehouse where the paint was shipped," Ryan added. "The holding company is privately owned, but the largest principal is Phillip Wang. Unfortunately, that's not a direct enough connection to charge him with anything, but when you put it together with our arrest of Chen, it's pretty clear what's going on."

"Anything on the wielder of the butterfly sword?" Castle asked.

"We're canvassing martial arts studios that might hold training and sparring sessions with weapons like that," Ryan answered, "but it's hard to know which ones to hit. Butterfly sword classes are nothing they advertise, at least not publicly. Tech has found a few references on forums. We're tracking them down."

"You might check with the ownership of The Forge," Castle suggested. "If anyone knows weaponry esoterica, they would. I can call them if you like. They believe they've completely embarrassed themselves in my eyes and are scared to death they'll be portrayed unfavorably in one of my books. They'll be glad to do something to make a better impression. I can talk to Halsey, too. He sees everything - or almost everything."

"That would be great, Castle," Ryan replied. "Let us know what you find out."

"Will do," Castle promised.

After the exchange with Ryan and Esposito, Kate's teeth found her lower lip. "Babe, I was hoping that you wouldn't have anything more to do with The Forge."

"You think I want to?" Castle asked. "Not to worry. I'll stick strictly to conversation at a distance; the further, the better. If I'm going to be tortured, I'd rather it be in a much more arousing manner. But speaking of torture and arousal, did you get the date on your post-partum freedom check moved up?"

"So glad you asked, Castle. It's tomorrow."


	27. Chapter 27

Ian 2

Chapter 27

Castle paced the floor with Amelia on his shoulder. It wasn't that the baby needed calming. Kate had nursed her just before she'd left for her doctor's appointment. While still in a good mood, the baby's attention had been drawn by a musical mobile. It was Castle who was nervous and needed something soft and warm cuddling against his shoulder. It wasn't just a matter of the doctor giving Kate the okay to have intercourse again, although Castle was certainly looking forward to the resumption of a fuller sex life. After Kate's difficult pregnancy and extended labor, he really wanted to make sure she was healthy again. That was especially true since Kate was throwing herself so thoroughly into consulting with the N.Y.P.D. Not that Castle wasn't, but he'd been doing his balancing act of fitting consulting around the other elements of his life for a long time - and he was still learning how to do it. For as long as he'd known Kate, given half a chance she'd dived into everything so fully that she drove herself to the brink of exhaustion. Between coping with an infant and puzzling over murders, she would need all her health and strength. He knew he needed his. His migraine auras had appeared a couple of times since Amelia's birth, but he'd managed to get his medication into his system quickly enough to head off the worst of the pain and nausea. Still, he knew that Amelia's years would be challenging, to say the least, for both him and for Kate. He just wondered if his wife realized how much.

* * *

"Everything's looking good, Kate," Dr. Fury announced. "You can get dressed and pick up your paperwork on the way out."

Kate sat up on the examining table. "Um, can I…my husband and I…?"

"Have sex?" Dr. Fury finished. "you don't need to be shy about asking. I hear the question a lot. You can do whatever is comfortable for you. Nursing mothers can experience dryness, and with a handful like Amelia, you will be tired, but there are products for the former, and you should try to get enough sleep to remedy the latter."

Kate wondered if she should go to the drugstore just in case, on her way home. She'd never needed any aids for sex with Rick. He was always a thoughtful lover and had made sure she was more than ready before joining with her, but she'd used them before she and Rick were a couple. There had been that FBI agent. And there was a cop from Robbery. Shit! She didn't even want to think about what sex was like with either of them, but she'd pick something up just in case. During her days confined to her bed, there had been a few commercials which ran during the soap operas, which had sounded intriguing.

* * *

When Kate called, Castle immediately began to plan. After Amelia's late feeding would be their best opportunity. The baby would be in dreamland. Ian would most likely be as well, but if he weren't, it would be because he was fully absorbed in some project, perhaps putting the finishing touches on his Baby Blaster comic or drawing another portrait of Fleur. In either case, he'd stay in his room. Rick placed thick candles around the bedroom, ready to light, and made up the bed with the highest thread count sheets he and Kate owned. He wondered if he should send out for raw oysters, but decided against it. Kate got off more on strawberries anyway, and he'd picked up some of the early crop, shipped in from California when he'd been shopping. They weren't as flavorful as the local berries available in the warmer months, but they would have to do. He flipped through his collection of vintage vinyl, then rethought it. He wanted to play Sinatra for Kate, but not enough to risk waking Amelia. It would be all right. They'd never had a problem making their own music together.

Rick looked at his watch. Kate had said she'd be doing some shopping on the way home. He still had at least 20 minutes before she'd arrive. He hadn't been able to reach any of the inner circle of The Forge the night before, and he'd been too distracted to try calling them that day. He had time to try to reach someone now. Halsey would be at his post at the reception desk. He could at least talk to him.

Brendon Halsey was using an ostrich feather duster to remove any motes of dust from the weapons displayed on the wall, when the phone rang. He could feel his armpits dampen when he saw the call was from Richard Castle, but he had standing instructions that if the writer should make contact, to accommodate him in any way possible. "Mr. Castle, so nice to hear from you."

"Thank you, Halsey, but listen, you may be able to help solve a murder."

"Oh goodness, not another one!" Halsey responded.

"Relax. It has nothing to do with The Forge, or at least I don't think it does, but I need some information."

Halsey drew a tremulous breath. "Of course, Mr. Castle, anything I can do."

"Tell me what you know about butterfly swords, specifically who uses them and where," Castle instructed.

Halsey stroked his fastidiously shaved chin. "They're not popular here. As you know, our members favor swords with longer blades."

Unseen, Castle smirked. "Yes, but such matters are discussed."

"Indeed," Halsey agreed. "And as I recall, we had an applicant, an unsuccessful one, who listed combat with butterfly swords as one of his skills. He gave a gym on Mott Street, Chin Ho, as a reference."

Castle grinned at his phone. "Thanks, Halsey. That's exactly what I needed."

Halsey squared his shoulders and straightened his tie. "Happy to be of service, Mr. Castle."

* * *

Ian led Fleur up the stairs to Mrs. Belkin's studio. "Are you sure it's all right for us to be here?" she asked.

Ian's head bobbed. "Mrs. Belkin told me we could use it. She said we could even put some sodas in her little fridge if we wanted to. And she wants me to look at her paintings."

Fleur lightly touched his arm. "She must think a lot of you. Your teacher would. Your art was the best at the exhibit."

Ian shrugged. "Maybe, but it's not even close to the best of some work I've seen at SVA. I've still got a lot to learn, but I'm going to learn it."

Fleur reached up to cup his cheek, where late afternoon stubble was already beginning to form. "I know you will Ian. You're already _incroyable_ , the way you won over _Maman_ just by the way you drew me.

He covered her hand with his own. "I drew what I saw and what I feel, Fleur. I've never felt the way I feel about you, about anyone else. But I don't want to do anything, I mean I don't want to get you in trouble."

Fleur moistened her full lips. "I know that Ian and I trust you." She rose on tiptoe, touching her mouth gently to his. "But we can do this."

Ian wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her against him, tucking her head under his chin. "I wish we could be together all the time."

Fleur snuggled her head into his chest and sighed. " _Moi aussi_."


	28. Chapter 28

Ian 2

Chapter 28

The buzzing of his phone interrupted Castle's hulling of strawberries for later amusements. "Yo, Castle, Ryan and I checked out that Chin Ho gym. Chin admitted to having clients swinging butterfly swords, but refused to give us a list. Ryan's working on the paperwork for a court order now. It's not like gyms have client confidentiality or shit like that. The guy has something to hide."

"Yeah, unfortunately, now that Chin knows you and Ryan will be coming back, his client list may pull a disappearing act," Castle lamented.

"Hey Bro, who do think you're talking to? We thought of that. We have a unit doing surveillance on the place. Our guys are getting pictures of anyone coming in and out and sending them to us. I can pass 'em on to you too if you want."

"Please," Castle urged, "but don't worry about it until tomorrow. Kate and I have some business to take care of tonight."

"Okay, Bro. You holler at me if you figure anything out."

"I will, Bro. Thanks."

* * *

Ian did a final save on his Baby Blaster file. Since the few minutes he'd had with Fleur in his arms - and the kiss - that afternoon, energy had been racing through his body. It wasn't just about creating a comic book that would grab the attention of the kids who spent their spare time at Comicadia; it was everything. The world seemed brighter and more alive. He couldn't wait to start his next drawing. It had to be Fleur, the Fleur whose warmth he could still feel on his lips.

* * *

"She's down, Babe," Kate announced triumphantly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "You get comfortable. I'm going to change into something sexier than a nursing blouse."

"Personally, I find the hidden but convenient access to the emblems of your motherhood alluring," Castle said, "but I'm open to surprises."

Kate tickled his nose with the tip of her finger. "Good, cause I'm already pretty open myself."

Kate grabbed a bag from the top of the dresser and closed the bathroom door behind her. She examined her purchase from a boutique that was serendipitously down the block from the drugstore. It seemed like forever since she'd bought or even worn anything like it. Except for a red satin ribbon threaded along the neckline, the black garment was devoid of decoration, but its filmy softness would flow over her body like a second skin. She hoped that Amelia's greedy acceptance of every drop she'd had to offer would prevent any unwanted wet blooms. Not that Rick minded them. If anything, he found them endearing. Kate herself, found dripping less than sexy and hoped to avoid it. She gazed at the contents of the small bag she'd tucked inside her larger one and stowed it in a drawer in the vanity. Tonight, her body was more than ready on its own.

Castle stripped off his plaid flannel shirt, t-shirt, jeans, socks, and shoes. He was already wearing his silkiest boxers and decided it might be more fun to let Kate pull them loose. He certainly intended to pull loose whatever enticing confection she was donning. A late-night strawberry snack had left her lips sweet and inviting. Rick couldn't wait to taste them. He climbed between the fresh sheets just in time to see her emerge from the bathroom. He couldn't recall seeing her more beautiful, as the light from the candles she lit, tinged her skin with gold. He had a fleeting thought that if he had his son's talent, he might have been tempted to reach for a sketch pad. But there was no need. The image of her at this moment would be indelibly etched in his brain. He held up the covers in invitation.

Kate needed no prodding to slip in beside him, pressing against the firm muscle of his thigh. He pulled her on top of him, feeling the heat of her through the fragile layers of fabric. In concert, they reached out to rid each other of the final barriers between them. Castle kissed and laved the buds on her breasts, now darkened by motherhood. As they hardened, she took his hand and guided it downward, gasping at his touch as he unerringly found his mark. He homed in on the tiny mound of sensation aching for his attention as he rolled her beneath him. Their lips collided, tongues searching and thrusting. She arched, the air forced from her lungs. Castle could feel her moisture slickening his fingers. "Kate?"

She answered by grabbing the questing hardness pressing against her belly and guiding it to her need. As she sheathed him in a long-awaited welcome, he maintained an edge of caution, moving slowly and gently. Kate was in no mood to be careful. With both hands clutching the curving wonderland below his back, she urged him onward, wrapping her legs around him to drive him deeper. She needed more. By force of will, she contracted muscles stretched by birth. She could feel him jerk within her as his passage tightened. The sensation she'd never heard given a name, began to spread through her, and she could feel the pressure building toward the soul-wrenching explosion that rammed them together before casting them apart. Kate held her breath as waves of release continued to surge through her, and Castle sank to her side. Gently kissing her hair, he pulled her close and tugged up the sheets and blankets around them. "Sexiest mama ever!"

* * *

Kate groaned as the pitch of Amelia's summons rose with the sun. Castle put his hand on her shoulder. "I'll get her." He swept up his daughter from the confines of the bassinet she was rapidly outgrowing and put her in Kate's arms. "She's almost ready for the crib that has been impatiently awaiting her occupation."

"I know," Kate said. "At her last check, Dr. Lauria was very pleased with how well she's been growing."

"How could she not thrive on the one and only Katherine Beckett 's gloriously sustaining brew?"

Kate giggled, almost dislodging her daughter. "Especially with the way you've been feeding me. If she wasn't draining so many calories, I would probably blow up like a balloon."

"The world's most beautiful balloon," Castle replied, "But obviously right now you have nothing to worry about. Speaking of nutrition, I'm going to make breakfast for the rest of us, including the human vacuum cleaner masquerading as a teenage boy."

* * *

"Dad," Ian said between bites of a cheese omelet, "I sent Baby Blaster to the network, but I set up the timing so it should print out just before I get back from SVA this afternoon. I'll collate the comics when I get home, then go drop them off at Comicadia tomorrow after I walk Fleur to her bus. I'm only making twenty to start. I figure if they give them all away this weekend, I can always make more, and if they don't, it would be pretty depressing to have a stack of them just sitting there."

"I doubt that would happen," Castle said. "I think your sister makes a charming if piercing, superhero. But it sounds like a plan. And it should work out because I have some color printing of my own to do this morning." Kate raised an eyebrow. "Ryan and Esposito sent the surveillance photos from that gym on Mott Street I mentioned. I thought I'd render them in hard copy and we could go over them together to see if anything pops."

"The boys will run facial recognition. What are you expecting us to find, Babe?" Kate queried.

Castle shrugged. "I won't know until we look."


	29. Chapter 29

Ian 2

Chapter 29

Kate regarded the photos spread out on the kitchen table and pointed. "We can probably eliminate these two. The evidence indicates Asian, and if anything, they look Teutonic."

Castle nodded. "And more likely to favor a saber or broadsword. But these others are all Asian or at least Eurasian. Kate, look at this guy. See his coat. It was frigid enough yesterday that everyone else has cuffs on their sleeves to block the wind, but his are wide open. They could accommodate butterfly swords."

Kate tapped the picture with her nail. You're right, Babe. They could. With the heavy clothing, it's hard to tell, but he doesn't look as musclebound as the others."

"To move quickly and silently with lighter weapons," Castle offered. "I'd say ninja except that it would be the wrong country. But I'm sure that the Chinese have their own brand of stealthy assassins."

"Yeah, what country doesn't? Okay, I'll ask Ryan and Esposito to get with Gangs and concentrate on this one. Maybe we'll get lucky.

* * *

Ian was restless both during regular school and his class at SVA. Much as he loved the extra art instruction, he would have rather had his time with Fleur. And he was anxious to put his comics together. He enjoyed using his sister as his heroine. She sounded off less often now than she had when Dad and Kate brought her home from the hospital. Most nights he was able to abandon his earplugs. But when she did cry, she was even louder. He'd added a pair of furry earmuffs for Gladys Shoop into his story, to shield her from the sound. He'd even looked up the patterns in which glass shattered from sound waves so that he could draw broken windows accurately. Some images of breakage were beautiful, like spider webs with sharper lines, but that wasn't the effect he was looking for. He'd ended up not using shattered glass at all. He'd figured that showers of it would have been pretty tropish and maybe even frightening to younger kids. There was no reason to feature them. Growing up in special ed., Ian had known a lot of kids who were scared most of the time. They couldn't do what the other kids did, and they didn't understand why. That could be terrifying. He'd been that way himself until his dad, and his teachers helped him to understand that there were ways he could cope, and encouraged his art. He still felt deeply for any kids who were afraid, for any reason. He didn't want to make things any worse for them. His baby heroine had the power to control and defeat evil. He hoped that kids could find security in that.

* * *

As usual, there was no chance that Rick and Kate could sleep in on Saturday or any other morning. Ian didn't sleep in either, but not because of his sister's hungry greeting of the dawn. Comicadia opened early on Saturdays, and he wanted to be sure to be down there when the doors were unlocked, to get permission to put his Baby Blaster comics on the "free" table. The night before he'd made sure that every page was properly lined up and stapled. Then he'd slipped each book into a special bag with a cardboard backing to prevent it from wrinkling or creasing. He didn't really expect his comics to become collectibles, but he wanted them to look as professional as possible. Between his father's top of the line printer and the packaging, except for not having a publisher or a price, they did. He'd loaded them into his backpack to grab as soon as he finished breakfast.

Dad cooked breakfast most of the time during the week, but Kate took over most Saturday mornings and a lot of Sundays too. Her waffles and pancakes weren't as good as Dad's, but her scrambled eggs were better sometimes. She didn't mix as much weird stuff into them. And when she made deviled eggs, they were fantastic, hot and sweet all at the same time. She made something with sausage and potatoes that was pretty good too.

Ian found both Kate and his father in the kitchen. Dad was using the electric waffle iron while Kate cooked bacon on the stove. They were singing "I've Got You Under My Skin," as a duet. He hadn't heard her sing before, but his stepmother sounded good - very good. His dad didn't sound bad either. They kept catching each other's eye and giving each other little bumps with their hips. Ian suspected why they were in such a good mood, but he didn't really want to think about it. He poured orange juice for all of them and put out place settings on the table. "Ready to make your foray into the world of publishing?" Castle asked.

"I guess."

Rick put his arm around his son's shoulders. "Launching a book, especially with a new character, is always hard, no matter how many times you do it. But Comicadia's a great place to start. To celebrate or console, pizza from Stephano's when you return?"

"Sure Dad, that would be great."

* * *

"Ryan, it's eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, and we're not even on shift. What the hell am I doing here?" Esposito demanded.

"Well it's two o'clock in the afternoon in Lyon France, where Interpol is, and they just sent some information on the man Beckett and Castle spotted from those pictures taken at the Chin Ho Gym. The guy's name is Fen Wa Xiang, but he's just known as Fen. He's been a suspect in several murders - by butterfly sword - but no one's ever had enough evidence to nail him."

"So far, neither do we," Esposito pointed out.

"So far," Ryan repeated, nodding. "But we know where to find him. The way things are heating up between Wang and Shayne, we dog Fen, and we could break the case wide open."

"Yeah alright," Esposito agreed. "We'll stake him out, but if I'm going to be in a car with you that long, no bean burritos."

"If I have to forgo my bean burritos, that means no double _jalapeño_ pizza for you," Ryan returned.

"Fine," Esposito conceded, "I was thinking more moo goo gai pan anyway."

* * *

Kate pulled her guitar case out of her closet and dusted it off, before putting it on the bed to undo the latches. At least none of the strings were broken. She'd left her capo in place. Her voice had dropped a bit since she'd last played. She'd have to move the capo up the neck of the instrument or play without it. Playing would be hard, at least to start. Her fingertips had been away from the strings so long that they'd lost their callouses. She wasn't even sure she remembered the chords anymore. But she wanted to try a song anyway. Singing with Castle, even if it was just over a hot pan, had been freeing. She'd forgotten just how good making music instead of just listening to it could feel. And Ian hadn't winced once. He'd even smiled while she was singing. She couldn't have been that bad. She'd be tuning the strings by ear and hoped she remembered how to do it. Was it the fourth fret on the fourth string? It was. Considering how long it had been since she'd done it, she was surprised how much the process felt instinctual. In a few moments, she was crooning softly as she strummed.


	30. Chapter 30

Ian 2

Chapter 30

Ian carefully watched the early arrivals at Comicadia making their way around the graphic wonderland. There were little ones, accompanied by their parents, mostly fathers. Some of the adults stood by sleepy-eyed while their charges rummaged through boxes, racks, and tables. Others were intent on their own acquisitions while their kids roamed in relative freedom. Ian could recall his dad doing a little of both. Ian had dragged him out of bed on some mornings when a new edition would be released, but on other days the senior Castle had also enthusiastically sought his favorite collectibles, even while often checking to make sure Ian was in sight. In those early days, Ian had recognized everything by shapes and colors, all of which he'd memorized. His father had patiently read the stories to him, while he'd studied every detail of the costumes, arsenals, and background. Slowly he'd learned to decipher the stories on his own, eventually even learning to write some. Most of the kids he saw now would have a much easier time, and their parents most likely would too.

One boy drew Ian's attention at the "free" table. From his size, Ian would have guessed that he was a fourth or fifth grader. From the way he was squinting and trying to adjust the angle of his head, it looked like the boy was having as much trouble with the words on the cover of Baby Blaster, as Ian would have had at that age. Ian walked over, careful not to intrude too far into the child's space. "I can tell you about that comic if you want."

The boy shuffled timidly. "Did you read it? I don't read so good."

"Me either," Ian confessed. "But I drew it, and I wrote it."

The boy's eyes widened. "Really? I like drawing pictures. My teacher says I'm good at it. I wish I could learn to make comic books."

"I could teach you," Ian offered. "I mean if it's all right with your parents."

The boy's lip trembled. "It's just my mom. Daddy went away and didn't come back. Mom had to work today. She always works Saturdays because it's the store's busiest day. Lena brought me. She lives in the apartment next door, and she watches me on Saturdays and after school until Mom comes home." The small hand pointed. "She's over there. She said she wanted the new 'Wonder Woman.' Here she comes."

Ian looked up at the teenage girl coming his way, carrying a "Wonder Woman Special Edition." "Jeffy, you know your mother doesn't want you talking to strangers."

"It's okay," Ian said. "I was just going to help him with Baby Blaster. He should take it. It's free. And my email is in there for readers that have questions, if his mom will let him use it."

Lena regarded Ian with skeptical New York City eyes. He looked harmless, and he hadn't tried to touch Jeffy, but there were creeps everywhere. "Yeah, sure."

With Baby Blaster still firmly grasped in his hand, Lena led Jeffy to the cash register so she could pay for her purchase. Jeffy looked back at Ian as Lena ushered him out the door. Ian stayed in the store through the morning. He watched with satisfaction as the Baby Blasters were claimed, and searched for a few issues he'd wanted for his collection, before taking the subway home.

* * *

Castle tapped an extra-large pizza box as Ian came through the door of the loft. "Triumph or trauma?"

"Well, people took all the copies I made, and the manager at Comicadia said I could bring more."

"That sounds like a triumph to me, so why are your sneakers dragging across the floor?"

"I met a kid who reminded me of me - you know, with the reading and everything. Except he doesn't have you to look out for him. I wanted to try to help him a little, but his babysitter dragged him away. I think she thought I was some kind of perv or something."

"At least he has someone looking out for him. A lot of kids aren't that lucky." Castle said. "Looks like you might end up being even more of a regular at Comicadia than you already are. Maybe you'll get a chance to see him again. You never know how things will work out. Anyway, we should consume this culinary masterpiece before it gets cold. I'm just going to get Kate. The way she's been going, at least half of this will go to fuel mother and baby."

* * *

As Esposito enthusiastically stripped the meat from the last spare rib, Ryan nudged his shoulder. "Hey Javi, isn't that Fen walking toward the gym?"

Esposito dropped the bare bone in the bag containing the trash from their meal. "About freakin' time! He's wearin' that same coat Castle talked about, and the sleeves do look stiff. If he's gonna have any kind of a workout, he should be in there at least an hour."

"Right," Ryan agreed. "Good time to use the john in the tearoom down the street."

"Tearoom," Esposito snorted. "What? You going to buy a couple of cucumber sandwiches?"

"I think we're about seven miles too far south for those," Ryan responded. "But they're not bad. My Aunt Fiona likes them. The tea room sells pretty decent almond cookies. I could bring you one."

"No thanks. When you're done, I'm gonna take a walk to that place that sells the good jerky. A man needs protein."

Ryan shook his head. "Like the three doughnuts you stuffed down this morning," he muttered.

* * *

Kate's cell phone piped "Londonderry Air" just as she'd finished ordering two cases of diapers. The newborn size was getting snug on Amelia, and she wanted to be ready for her daughter's next step. What's up Ryan?"

"Fen showed up at the gym, and Javi and I tracked him to an unmarked building on East Broadway. Beckett, according to property records, the building is owned by the same holding company as the warehouse the marking paint was shipped to. That means Phillip Wang. Javi and I arranged for twenty-four-hour surveillance."

"That's great, Ryan," Kate said.

"Not exactly," The Irish cop replied. "While we were watching Fen, three more bodies dropped, Wang's soldiers. Shayne might as well have signed his name. Bullets in chest and head, with pockets cut out. That's probably why Fen is with Wang. Shayne is upping the ante, and Wang is planning a counter strike. We've got everyone available canvassing for witnesses. Montgomery even pulled in some guys from other shifts. But so far, no one admits to seeing or hearing anything that ties the murders to Shayne. We need to put an end to this fast, but we still don't have enough to pick up Fen, and even if we did, we don't know whom else Wang would send."

Kate pushed her hair out of her face. "You should keep on Fen, Kevin. If you can catch him when he goes after his next victim, you can pull him in, and maybe get him to flip on Wang. Is Gangs on top of Shayne's operation?"

"Like fleas on a dog, but they don't have anything solid enough to pick up any of his people."

"The next killing has got to come from Wang," Kate declared "Zeroing in on Fen is your best chance for ending the bloodbath."

"That's what Javi and I think too, Kate. I just hope we can do it before his next round of slicing and dicing."

"Yeah, Kevin. So, do I."


	31. Chapter 31

Ian 2

Chapter 31

Ian would have deleted the email if it hadn't been for "Jeffy" in the subject line. The message was simple:

"My son says you can teach him to make his own comic books. I need to make sure you're on the level. Maybe we can meet somewhere. If you're for real, you're a godsend.

Jeffy's Mom"

Ian printed it out to show to his father and Kate, who were taking turns walking a fussy Amelia. While his father joggled his sister, Ian handed his printout to Kate, who read it aloud. "What do you think I should do?" Ian asked.

Castle laid Amelia against his shoulder, gently circling his hand on her back. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to help Jeffy, but being face to face with his mother makes me nervous."

"If I were Jeffy's mother, I'd want to meet you too, and run a background check," Kate offered.

"Make that two," Castle agreed. "But if you find facing fierce motherhood intimidating, I can go with you. Tell her to pick whatever spot makes her comfortable. With any luck, she'll choose a place that makes decent coffee. But let her know you can't do it during school hours. First things first."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll do that," Ian agreed.

* * *

Fen considered his mission. Wang had proclaimed that nine - the number traditionally associated with an emperor - of Shayne's soldiers must die. He could take on one, two, or even three together if he used both his swords, but nine would require a different strategy. He'd considered taking them one by one as they stumbled out of The Bliss, a bar that served as an unofficial headquarters for Shayne's gang. But there was no honor in killing a man whose senses were dulled by drink. It would be better to catch them in the act of defying Wang's will. That meant stalking them in the territory Wang had chosen to reclaim. Much of Shayne's business was conducted during the daylight hours when there were few shadows to hide Fen's presence. He'd kill the evil that dwelt in the dark, in the pleasure chambers. When they availed themselves of the depraved indulgences of the night, it would be his time to strike.

"Javi, you aren't usually this anxious to work overtime," Ryan noted.

"Yeah, but I need the dough," Esposito explained. "I want to buy some new furniture - and not that cheap stuff that comes in a box."

"Why?"

"I had a lady up to my place, and she said my stuff turned her off, that she felt like we were grabbing a quickie in a cut-rate flop joint."

Ryan pursed his lips. "That was harsh. But listen, I know a place. They sell off all the showy stuff that's used to stage houses and condos for sale. It's all in great shape, and a lot cheaper than buying the nice stuff new. My sisters both did their apartments that way, so it must appeal to women. I found out because they called me to help lug the stuff."

"Yeah, figures you'd let yourself get stuck doin' that. Maybe after we nail this guy, I'll check the place out."

Ryan started the car. "That may be sooner than you think. Look's like Fen's on the move."

"Man, I know this place," Esposito noted as they followed Fen to a brownstone. "Coupla guys from Vice told me about it. Shayne's people keep the place open by having the women call themselves hostesses, but it's a cathouse."

"Doesn't look like Fen's going in," Ryan observed. "He's going around the back."

"They have one of those city gardens back there," Esposito offered. "There are big bushes that could provide some cover."

Ryan shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask you how you know that, but if Fen tries to hide back there, the next murder could be about to go down. I'm going to call for back up."

Esposito opened the door on his side of the car. "While you do that, I'll go get eyes on him,"

"Don't take any chances, Javi," Ryan cautioned. "Fen is a trained killer."

"Don't worry, Bro. He isn't the only one who knows how to take a man down."

* * *

Pulling out her phone on the short break the store manager allowed her only because the New York labor laws demanded it, Belinda Argyle read the email from Ian Castle, accepting her invitation for a meeting. His line about his Dad having told him that he couldn't miss school sounded reassuringly normal. She decided a Java Hut would be safe enough. There would be plenty of people around. Not much could happen. There was one only a block from work. Jeffy was so anxious to see Ian again; she didn't want to disappoint him if she didn't have to. The boy had enough disappointments in his life already. She sent an answer, offering to get together Monday evening, as soon as she got off work.

Ian held up his phone in front of Castle's face. "Dad, look at this! I know it's short notice but…."

Castle quickly scanned the text. "We can make that, and the lattes at Java Hut aren't half bad. Sure, tell Jeffy's mom it's a date - but don't put it that way. Just tell her you'll be there."

* * *

Esposito bit his lip to keep a curse from erupting when he scratched himself on branches of the bush he was crouching behind. He saw a hint of a shadow that told him Fen was not far away. He hoped that the assassin was similarly uncomfortable in the icy air. A man came out the back door, while a feminine voice sounded behind him. "The cold can make things interesting. Just make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back to make sure that you're hot where it counts."

Shivering slightly, the figure tentatively sunk down on a couch that was part of the outdoor furniture on what would be a patch of grass in the Spring. Esposito saw a flash of metal reflecting the city lights, as Fen crept from cover. Fen was raising his sword when Esposito tackled him. The two men scuffled on the frozen ground while the frightened patron of the bawdy house ran for the street, almost colliding with Ryan. "There's a guy with a sword," the would-be customer choked out.

Ryan drew his gun as he ran. He cocked it audibly as he pointed it at the struggling figures. "Never bring a sword to a gun fight."

* * *

"Can't say I like the idea of you meeting a strange woman at a Java Hut," Kate teased.

"As you are sadly too aware, Ian can make one hell of a chaperone. But seriously, Kate, I think this will be good for him. Reaching out to a kid who's trying to cope with the same things he's been going through is a great way of turning a problem into a solution. Kind of like what you did with me."

"Castle, you were never a problem," Kate insisted. "At first you were a little bit of a blow to my pride, not to mention my misconceptions, but never a problem. But you are a solution, especially if you take the next round of diaper duty."

Castle palmed the curves of her behind. "Ah, your true motives emerge. I will take the next two, but only because I am powerless in thrall to your charms - or hope to be."

"Macho Man" erupted from Kate's phone, and Castle sighed.


	32. Chapter 32

Ian 2

Chapter 32

Sullen and silent, Fen stared disconcertingly into Esposito's eyes. "Look Fen," Ryan said, "if you're expecting Phillip Wang to send you a lawyer, it's not going to happen. He swears he doesn't know you and he's never met you, although we all know better, don't we? We already have you on attempted murder, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer. When the guys in the crime lab are finished with your sword and the microscopic traces of blood they found on your shoes and your coat, we'll have you for a lot more than that. Now we can get you a public defender…."

"Yeah," Esposito interjected, "most of 'em have been out of law school for at least a year. One oughta do a real good job for you."

"There is one and only one way you can help yourself here," Ryan continued. "Give us Phillip Wang. Stop the war before it goes any further."

"War is an honorable pursuit," Fen declared.

"Not unless it's a real fight," Esposito argued. "You've just been executing guys with zero chance of beating you. That makes you a coward."

"I am not a coward!" Fen protested. "I am a warrior, as my ancestors have been warriors."

"Well then you've been fighting for the wrong side," Ryan insisted. "Phillip Wang used you, just like he's used others who've died to fill his pockets. But you could still win a battle worth fighting, and put an end to the sickness he's brought to this city."

Fen said nothing.

Esposito slapped his palms against the table. "Fine. Enjoy the Tombs. It will give you a preview of what it'll be like to be shut behind the walls of Rikers and Sing Sing."

After two uniformed officers led a handcuffed Fen to Holding, Ryan scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. "Javi, what are we going to do? We're getting nothing out of Fen. Wang isn't going to stop. He'll just find someone else to do his dirty work for him. And Shayne isn't going to stop either."

"You know, we could just let them kill each other off," Esposito suggested. "It would save the justice system a lot of trouble. Save us a lot of trouble too."

"Come on, Bro, we're better than that. We protect and serve, even the slime. Maybe Beckett will have an idea - or Castle will. We could use a little out of the box thinking right now."

"Yeah, well there's no one more out of his box than Castle."

* * *

Kate finger-raked her hair back as she listened to the voices emanating from the speaker on her phone. "That's tough guys. I was hoping you could get Fen to cooperate."

"Maybe they still can, but Fen won't know it," Castle suggested.

The grooves flanking the bridge of Kate's nose deepened. "What are you talking about, Babe?"

What I mean is that Fen will have to be moved, right? He'll be going to the Tombs, the courthouse, and Rikers. Wang doesn't know if he talked or not. And Shayne will want revenge. There's a good chance one or both of them will be after him. So somehow the press can find out when Fen's going to be in transit. There can be unfortunate leaks to social media. Nothing goes unseen on Twitter or Facebook. With any luck, Fen might even pop up on Periscope or Snapchat. The N.Y.P.D. can surround him undercover, then collar whoever tries to launch an attack."

"Castle that is underhanded and sneaky," Ryan remarked.

"But you like it," Castle replied.

Kate could hear the shrug in Ryan's voice. "It could work."

"I'd love to draw a bead on Wang's or Shayne's guys," Esposito added.

"Yeah, we can keep Fen in Holding overnight while we set something up," Ryan decided.

* * *

Ian pointed through the window of Java Hut at a woman sitting nervously at a table. "That must be Jeffy's mother. They have the same eyes and jawline; the same color hair, too."

"Then let's go introduce ourselves," Castle said.

Belinda looked up startled. She had expected the lanky teenager her son and Lena had described, but not the man beside him. She didn't know why she was surprised. She should have put it together. She knew from the bios on the jackets of the books she borrowed from the library, that Richard Castle had a son, even if his name or picture were never published."

"Are you Jeffy's mom?" Ian asked.

Belinda nodded. "I'm Belinda - Argyle. You must be Ian. And Richard Castle - I never expected…."

"May we sit with you?" Castle inquired. "I'm just here for moral support - and a latte."

"Please," Belinda invited.

Castle nodded at Ian as the two took seats opposite Belinda. "Ms. Argyle," the teen began, "when I was Jeffy's age, I got a lot of help, a lot more than most kids who have trouble reading. And drawing was always something I could do. From what Jeffy said, I think he's like me, just not as lucky. I want to be his luck. I want to help him do what he loves, what will help him feel like he's somebody - if you let me."

"I know Jeffy wants you to," Belinda said, "and I've wanted to be able to afford extra help for him, but even with working overtime, I can barely pay his sitter."

"My son is not asking for money," Castle assured her.

"I was pretty sure of that," Belinda admitted, "the way he was giving his comics away for free. Jeffy's been sleeping with Baby Blaster under his pillow. She's a little cutie."

Ian grinned. "I made her look like my sister. And Jeffy can make his superheroes look like people he knows too if he wants."

"How do you want to do this?" Belinda asked.

"There's a room at Comicadia they use for collectors' clubs and stuff. There's no one using it for the first couple of hours on Saturday mornings. I could work with Jeffy there, give him some tips on how to draw, maybe bring my laptop, let him learn how to do animation stuff on it."

"He'd love that!" Belinda exclaimed. "He's always talking about cartoons."

"Can Lena bring Jeffy this Saturday?" Ian asked.

"I'll bring him myself," Belinda decided. "My shift doesn't start until later, and it's been a long time since I took Jeffy to Comicadia. "If he can stay with you, Lena can pick him up later."

"He can stay with me as long as you want," Ian responded. "if someone else needs the room, Comicadia is a great place to hang, and I know the corners with the best comics."

"I'm sure you do," Belinda agreed.

"Now that's settled, I'm going to put in an order, my treat in honor of a promising collaboration," Castle declared.

* * *

Fleur leaned her head against Ian's shoulder as they sipped Dr. Peppers they'd stowed in Mrs. Belkin's tiny refrigerator. "It's sweet that you're going to be helping that little boy on Saturday mornings. I'd love to see the two of you drawing together."

"Maybe you could," Ian suggested. "Your mother lets you go shopping, doesn't she? There are lots of stores around Comicadia that sell girl stuff. You could meet me there before Jeffy gets picked up. Then after, I know it's cold, but maybe we can take a walk or something. There's a place near Comicadia that makes great hot chocolate. My dad and I used to go there all the time. It would be a little like being at Feldman's together.

Fleur pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen in his face, her fingertips brushing his forehead. "That sounds nice."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Ian 2

Esposito watched through his scope from a high window, while Fen was led to the courthouse in shackles. He knew that plainclothes cops were all over the area and there were marksmen from ESU in strategic locations. Approaching or parked cars could be a problem, and it would be hard to know which ones were suspicious. Unlike the telltale black SUV's the morons at the FBI tended to drive, none of the vehicles used by Wang or Shayne had any consistent giveaways. Occasionally, they had stolen plates. Running them would be up to the guys on the ground, but the process could take too long to do any good. Javi and the rest of his brethren would have to be on constant alert.

Liam Cook hunched over a cold cup and the screen of his cell phone in the back booth of a coffee house two blocks away. He'd begged Shayne to put him in charge of the operation. That bastard Fen killed his brother and needed to be taken down. He had men as close to the courthouse as he could get them. They were parked in legal spaces where the cops wouldn't hassle them. They were also drinking coffee and eating doughnuts at the food truck across the street from the building. The plan was not to get Fen going inside. They'd had no way of knowing exactly when he would arrive and how well he would be guarded. By targeting him after the proceedings., they'd have the lay of the land. If there was no way to get a clear shot, he already had his men staking out the most vulnerable part of the route to Rikers. They could target the vehicle that would be transporting Fen, and if his guards died with him, Liam would not grieve for their demises.

Ryan waited in the back of the courtroom. An arraignment wouldn't take long. The lawyer appointed for Fen would plead him guilty or not guilty. About 95 percent of defendants pled out. Since Fen had refused a plea agreement, not guilty would be the default. Ryan was hoping that something would happen before Fen made it to Rikers. Once he was there, either Shayne or Wang could find a way of having him taken out, but it would make no statement. Prisoners, especially the ones incarcerated for violent crimes, attacked each other on a regular basis. It didn't exactly make the news. And an attack behind bars would be hard if not impossible to connect to Shayne or Wang.

The judge plowed swiftly through his docket. If it hadn't been freezing outside, Ryan would have suspected the man had a golf date, but it was possible he was just looking forward to a decent lunch or maybe even a nooner. Fen was hustled out of the courthouse in less than an hour and led to a waiting van. Esposito joined Ryan in their unit as they followed Fen through the city streets.

* * *

"Fen is on his way to Rikers Island," Cong Wang reported.

Phillip Wang steepled his fingers. "I assume that his arrival will be prevented?"

"No matter what route is chosen, there will be no alternative taking the Rikers Island Bridge. Bridges have ice in cold weather. Accidents are inevitable."

"They are indeed," the elder Wang agreed.

* * *

The prison van proceeded up FDR Drive as rapidly as was possible in New York City traffic, making its way to the Bronx without incident. "Maybe we should have had the van take the route through Brooklyn," Ryan worried.

"No way, Bro," Esposito disagreed. "This is the shortest way to go, and the one anyone planning an attack would expect. Not many spots for an ambush though. If it was me trying to take Fen out, I'd do it right before the bridge, or on it. Traffic is restricted, and there's no alternate route."

"You're right. If they do it there, Fen would look like a sitting duck," Ryan conceded. "So, would his guards, if there weren't ESU guys in there with him, and more ahead of us. Going this way, the whole trip is only about forty minutes. We should know pretty soon.

Shots failed to penetrate the bulletproof glass or the disguised armor of the transport vehicle as it approached the bridge to Rikers Island, but a Kevlar jacketed squad poured out onto the road in search of the source of the weapons fire. As the van continued onward, spheres studded with razor-sharp steel points penetrated its tires, and it careened toward the guardrail.

"Can you hold it?" ESU leader Lieutenant Seth Joseph shouted.

Driver Ken Thompson gritted his teeth, correcting the skid. "I think so."

A crossfire of both Shayne and Wang bullets erupted, and every available unit was called to move in and surround the fray.

"Man, I want to be in it," Esposito complained as he and Ryan hunched down in their vehicle in the cover of roadside trees.

"Are you crazy?" Ryan exclaimed. "We're not the ones with the shields and the body armor. Both gangs must have attacked the van. It's the apocalypse out there."

"It'll be the apocalypse for the Shaynes and the Wangs when ESU gets through with them," Esposito declared, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"You can spare me your appetite for carnage," Ryan retorted. "We were supposed to be preventing a bloodbath, not causing one."

"Yeah well sometimes it takes killing a few of the enemy to prevent a massacre," Esposito argued. "If you'd ever been in combat, you'd know that. I just hope all our guys make it through okay."

"With you there, Bro," Ryan agreed.

Sammy Loo pulled his coat tightly around him as he crouched under a bridge support. If he made it out alive, he was going to need new pants. He also wanted to get as far from Phillip and Cong Wang - and New York - as he could. Maybe he would join his cousin growing pot to supply the dispensaries in San Francisco. He'd heard Jack had a sweet business, and guys mellowed out on ganja didn't shoot at each other. Sometimes there were still the Feds to contend with, but it would be nothing like this. He heard the click of a gun behind him. He wouldn't be making it to California.

Billy Conway had survived for years in Northern Ireland before making it first to Boston and then to New York. Working for Robert Shayne hadn't been a bad deal. Taking orders from Liam Cook had sent the little shiver up his neck that had kept him alive during the raids and the bombings, but Cook had Shayne's backing, so Billy went along with the plan. He should have listened to the sixth sense that warned him it would be a disaster. He didn't know if there would be a way out, but if there was any chance, he preferred to live to fight another day.

* * *

Sitting on the bed next to Kate, Castle pressed his palm against his face. "Six dead from the Wang and Shayne gangs and two cops wounded. I wish I'd kept my mouth shut."

She reached for his hand. "Babe, the cops were only grazed. They're not even in the hospital. They'll be fine. And a lot more of the Shayne and Wang soldiers would have died if the war hadn't been ended on that bridge. Word has it that Wang alone had ordered nine more deaths. As it is, soldiers flipped on each side and Gangs is making more than their quota of arrests for the next five years. Phillip Wang and Robert Shayne are already in custody. There won't be anyone left to kill each other. It's over. Take the win for the good guys."

Castle sighed and pulled her against him, the softness of her hair brushing his cheek. "I still hate it."


	34. Chapter 34

Ian 2

Chapter 34

Arriving near the end of Jeffy's lesson, Fleur stood in the doorway watching Ian's able fingers guide the boy's hand over a sheet of paper. Jeffy's face was bright with a grin. "That's just what I wanted to draw, Ian! It's Superdaddy, coming home after he finishes saving the world."

"We all want our superheroes to make it home," Ian agreed. He checked the Spiderman wall clock. "The Amazonettes are going to need this room in about two minutes. We can go into the anime cave until Lena comes to get you. The first season of Robotech is on the big screen. That was a good one."

"I like robots," Jeffy declared.

"Me too," Ian agreed pointing toward the doorway. "Do you mind if my friend Fleur comes with us?"

Jeffy studied her. "You're pretty, like Storm – but without the white hair. You can come. Do you draw like Ian does?'

"No," Fleur admitted "but I like nice stories. There are some scary ones where I come from on Martinique, about the dorlis, who can change into an animal or turn invisible."

"I'd like to be invisible," Jeffy declared. "Then no one would tease me or pick on me at school."

Sympathy flooded through Fleur as she smiled at the child. "When they see what a great artist you'll be, they'll be sorry they did."

* * *

Ian put his arm around Fleur as she shivered in a blast of wind. "We're almost to The Brimming Cup. The hot chocolate will warm you up. The chocolate croissants are really good too."

"I like being in New York because you're here, but it never got cold on Martinique. Getting used to it is hard. Some of the men Papa works with say our family has thin blood."

"It will be spring in a couple of months, and it will warm up," Ian said. "In summer it can get really hot."

"But school will be over in the summer _n'est-ce_ _pas_?" Fleur leaned into his body as much for comfort as for heat. "We won't see each other every day anymore."

"There has to be a way for us to be together," Ian asserted. "We'll figure it out."

* * *

Kate's strong fingers kneaded the knotted muscles in Castle's shoulders as he worked on his laptop. "You're still upset about what happened on the bridge to Rikers, aren't you?

Castle reached back to stroke her hand. "More bewildered than upset. Kate. One of the reasons I started writing about crime was to be able to understand it, to comprehend how humans could treat each other that way. After describing it in 26 best-sellers, I still don't have a clue as to why it happens. I'm trying to work through some of that confusion in this story. I'm not getting very far."

"Then maybe you should take a break," Kate proposed. "Amelia will probably sleep for at least another hour or so, and I just threw in a load of laundry. We could check out what's streaming. Maybe a comedy, something light and silly?"

"Throw in a bowl of M&Ms®, and you're on."

* * *

Castle pointed at the screen. "Hey, I remember that actor, Jonathan Lakes, who's playing the blowhard. He was one of Mother's love interests, on and off the screen - about 40 pounds ago. I haven't seen him in anything but the credits for a long time. He's been working behind the camera. I guess he must have gotten a yen to get in front of it again."

I don't think that was it," Kate said. "I heard about something happening on this show, some kind of an accident. Cables snapped, and electrical equipment fell on one of the actors. I think his name was Stanley Beach. The blow paralyzed him. Your mother's friend stepped into the role so the show could make its production schedule."

Castle sighed. "So much for light and silly. I was around theater and movie equipment for more than half my childhood. Gaffers, riggers, and best boys are all very careful. Cables don't just snap. There's got to be more to the story."

"There probably is. I just saw a blurb online, less than a paragraph. I never saw a follow-up. Omigod, Babe, I know that look! You're not going to let this go until you figure it out, are you?"

"Hell no! The next piece of equipment that falls could land on my mother, and no one would even get a pair of ruby slippers out of it. I'm going to talk to Jonathan Lakes and if I can, Stanley Beach as well as the gaffer and any other members of the crew who might have a clue. Who knows? I might even get a book out of it, or at least a character or two."

Kate laid a hand on his arm. "But that's not why you're doing it."

"No," Castle confessed. "It isn't. I made a lot of friends in Mother's world, and I don't want to see any of them hurt."

* * *

The rehab unit that housed Stanley Beach tried its best to be cheerful and upbeat. It wasn't working on Stanley. He'd spent most of his life scrambling around on stage, and no matter how many stories he heard about Christopher Reeve and what a heroic life he'd made for himself after being paralyzed, Stanley wasn't interested in being a hero. He'd already been offered voice acting roles but he just wanted to be able to walk again, and despite all the articles on cutting-edge research, it seemed unlikely at best. It was true that he could be strapped into an apparatus that would walk for him. He'd been in a couple of science fiction movies with those, even before they'd actually been invented. But he wanted to be free to let every move, every pose, every twitch, communicate to an audience. That wasn't going to happen, and he wasn't even close to acceptance of a new path for his life. He was angry. He was beyond angry; he was enraged. When Martha Rodgers' son showed up, he was more than eager to let the rage pour out.

Castle knew a desperate monologue when he heard one and let the torrent of Stanley's words cascade over him until the actor was drained. "So, you don't think it was an accident?" Castle recapitulated."

"I sure as hell don't," Stanley confirmed. "I've known Lou Morgan, the chief rigger, for fifteen years and a more anal-retentive man never strode a catwalk. He checks and rechecks everything down to the smallest detail. No way he'd use a defective cable, let alone one that would break. Someone wanted something to happen to the show, or to me. I'm sure of it. Have you talked to Lakes?"

"He and his current girlfriend took a jaunt to Jamaica. Given the current wind chill, I can't say that I blame them, but he's supposed to be back in a couple of days to start pre-production on a new space opera. The network picked it up without a pilot. It's supposed to start running this summer.

"Obviously, the powers that be still have faith in his ability to deliver a hit," Stanley commented. "Look, Ricky, if you find out anything, you let me know, okay?"

"Stanley, you will be my very first call."


	35. Chapter 35

Ian 2

Chapter 35

Jonathan Lakes slapped Castle on the back. "Ricky Rodgers! I haven't seen you in dog's years, but you've made quite a name for yourself. I'd never let her hear me say it, but you're bigger than Martha ever was."

Castle's eyes darkened. "Given that I'm six two and she's five seven, that's obvious. But she does send her regards. Her run at the Guthrie has been extended."

"Prestigious theater," Lakes noted.

"Yes, it is," Castle agreed. "But I didn't come to you to talk about my mother. I'm doing some research on the accident that paralyzed Stanley Beach. Do you remember it?"

"Remember it? He was playing quite a role, and when I stepped in for him, I only had a few hours to memorize ten pages of lines. Checking it out for a book?"

The muscles at the corner of Castle's jaw vibrated as his fingers curled into his palms. "Yes, I'm sure that was very difficult for you. And I may use what I find out in a book if it's interesting enough. So, what can you tell me?'

"I'm sorry Ricky, there really is nothing to tell. It was just a freak thing, metal fatigue maybe."

"From what I've found out so far, those cables were brand new," Castle pointed out. "Metal fatigue would have been highly unlikely."

Lakes shrugged. "Then I have no idea what happened. Maybe you should talk to that rigger, Lou Morgan. He's a bit of a strange one. He was obsessed with the accident, insisted there was no way it should have happened. Tried to do his own investigation. He got into everyone's face so much it was slowing down production, and we had to let him go. I'm not sure what happened to him after that. He dropped out of sight. So good luck on finding him."

Castle forced a smile to his lips. "Yeah, thanks."

* * *

Martha absently fingered her chunky necklace as she regarded her son's face on the screen of her phone. "Lou Morgan. Yes, I remember him. If there was ever anyone you could trust to keep the scenery from crashing, it was Lou. And as obnoxious as your conversation with Jon might have been - he always has been self-centered - he was right. I haven't heard anything about Morgan in a long time. But if he's working, if anyone would know where he is, it would be his union."

Castle blew a kiss at the screen. "Yes, Mother, of course. You're brilliant!"

"As you should have been aware for 40 years," Martha pointed out. "But you be careful, Richard. If what happened to Stanley wasn't an accident, whoever is behind it isn't going to like having you poke around."

"Mother, caution will be my middle name," Castle promised.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't mind me going out again?" Castle asked. "You've been handling Amelia by yourself for most of the last two days."

"As long as you fill me in on what you've found out," Kate said. "Javi told me that since the Wang-Shayne war ended, things at the precinct have been so dead that he and Ryan have been playing table hockey with those cookies from the vending machine in the breakroom."

"That's better than eating them," Castle offered. "Those things are stale enough to be hockey pucks. But so far, I don't have anything solid. The only thing pointing to something other than an accident is Stanley Beach's suspicions. That's why I want to track down Morgan. If there's anyone with a stake in knowing what really happened, it's him."

"You're right," Kate agreed, "but how are you going to get information out of the union? You haven't got a badge."

"Kate, I was around those guys enough to know that there are more persuasive inducements than badges."

* * *

Mike "The Pug" Lederer dug into the huge box of crème-filled maple bars Castle brought. "Yeah, Rick, Lou is still on the rolls, but he's not in the city. He pissed too many people off. He's still makin' films if you can call them that. They're industrial stuff. They shoot 'em in a studio in Paramus, in Jersey, Smartworks. Not far, but the traffic is shit this time of day."

Castle threw up his hands "When isn't it? Thanks, Pug. I'll give Smartworks a shot."

* * *

Ian and Fleur gazed together at the new painting on Mrs. Belkin's easel. "What do you think about the water?" Ian asked. "There's something that doesn't look right."

Fleur nodded. "Our house on Martinique was near the beach, and I could see the ocean from the window of my bedroom. I used to look at it all the time. It's the reflections of the light on the water. The way the sun is in her picture, they wouldn't look like that."

"That's it!" Ian agreed. "You have a terrific eye, Fleur. Well, two of them. I'll leave a note for Mrs. Belkin. She'd want me to. But you've given me an idea for how we can be together this summer. I'm going to volunteer at an art program at the Boys and Girls Club. It won't be like what I'm teaching Jeffy, more like arts and crafts stuff. You could volunteer too. Your mother wouldn't have any problems with you working with a bunch of little kids, would she?'

"I don't think so. She always wants me to be busy with something when I'm not in school. She thinks it will keep me out of trouble. I'll ask her."

Ian pressed his lips to the silk of her hair. "Outstanding!"

* * *

With real estate considerably cheaper in Paramus than in New York, Smartworks could afford to look impressive. There was no guard at the gate, but there was a dragon at the reception desk. Fortunately, for Castle, when he lowered the hood on his parka, she recognized him and quenched her fire. Oh, Mr. Castle, Lou Morgan is employed here, but he's working on a shoot right now, and the set is closed. Industrial announcements are embargoed until the release date. Don't want to let the competitors in on any secrets."

"Of course not," Castle agreed.

"But I can call and ask for Lou to come out when he's finished if you'd like to wait. I have Earl Grey tea, hot, like Captain Picard. I have some good cookies too. My sister makes them with the extra dark chocolate chips."

To Castle, it seemed a pleasing piece of symmetry to go from plying The Pug with sweets to find a Trekkie dragon who would offer them to him. "Thank you. Tea and cookies would be very nice."

* * *

Disturbance was evident in the creases on Lou Morgan's face when he finally entered the reception area. "What's this all about?"

Rick extended his hand. "Richard Castle."

Morgan nodded. "I know who you are. I worked for Letterman for a while. You were on a couple of times. What do you want, Mr. Castle?"

"I'm looking into the unfortunate accident that befell Stanley Beach," Castle explained. "I was wondering if you could give me any insights."

Morgan put up his hands as if to ward off the devil. "I can't talk about that. And Mr. Castle, if you know what's good for you, you won't ask any more questions about it. Let it go. Nothing is going to change what happened to Stanley. Opening the thing up again will only cause more trouble."

"What do you mean?" Castle asked. "What kind of trouble?"

"I can't say any more." Morgan strode away and disappeared behind an unmarked door.


	36. Chapter 36

Ian 2

Chapter 36

"He actually warned you off?" Kate asked as Castle sank into his chair in the great room.

Castle nodded. "He looked spooked, Kate, and guys with that kind muscle don't usually look spooked."

"So now you're more determined than ever."

"Of course! Aren't you? If Morgan had just said that he discovered it actually was an accident, I would have believed him. But now I'm sure something very sketchy was going on. I'm just not sure where to start to expose it. None of the usual making a timeline, targeting the kill zone and garnering Lanie's wisdom applies in this case."

"But there's something else that does," Kate pointed out. "And you're good at it. You said it seems like the alleged accident was about a lot more than someone having a hate on for Stanley Beach, right?'

"Uh huh," Castle confirmed.

"Then it's probably about money. So, follow it."

Springing to his feet, Castle clapped his hands together. "You're right. I need to find out who financed the production."

"But Babe, if you do find something, we need to get the N.Y.P.D. in on this. If Morgan was scared, it was for a reason, and Amelia, Ian and I need you to stay around and in one piece for a while."

"Yeah, I'd kind of like to stay around for a while myself."

* * *

Kate padded into Castle's office. "Babe, you should come to bed. You've been at this for hours."

"I know," Castle admitted. "The thing is, this doesn't look like regular financing. I went through Variety and all the show business rags, and the original announcement was pretty much the same word for word, in all of them. They just parroted a press release. A group called Blue Sky Financing was putting up the money. But the sources of funding for Blue Sky are hard to pin down. The chief investor, J.B. Jones, draws from a whole list of other entities. And their ownership is murky too. It looks like he was raising huge amounts of money, a lot of it on the basis of having Stanley Beach on board as a star. But it's hard to tell where it all went, especially since the final product didn't get much box office without Stanley, so whoever invested wouldn't have expected a return. His operation reminds me of "The Producers," but with a much more tangled web of deceit and without the music and the snappy dialogue. I think the whole thing was a series of interlocking scams; I just can't find a smoking gun."

"You should sleep on it. We can both take a fresh look at it in the morning. And right now, after getting up to feed Amelia, my feet are cold."

"Can't have that," Rick declared. "Richard Castle's foot warming service at your disposal."

* * *

 _Cables snaked and snapped, blood seeping from tiny cuts in the steel. A shadowy figure looked on, thumbing through a wad of cash, while Stanley Beach screamed in pain. "Your pain is my gain," the figure sneered._

Castle's eyes sprang open. "Who got rid of the cables?"

Kate turned over sleepily. "What?"

"If those cables were sabotaged, someone would have had to get rid of them," Castle explained, "someone who would have been paid. Maybe that's the money I should be looking for. I need to do more checking on that crew, and I know just the place."

* * *

Castle sipped his beer slowly as he listened to the buzz around him. Sardi's was the place for actors, but Hammer and Nail was the hangout for crew. He had no idea what he'd pick up that would be useful, but he'd know it when he heard it. A darts game was going on in one corner of the room and a stocky man, whose muscle came more from wrangling equipment than putting in time at the gym was working his way up and down the bar soliciting bets. Castle studied him in the mirror that reflected the patrons. The hustler's jacket was expensive, much more so than Castle would have expected. Castle's eyes flicked back to get a better look. The bet-taker's boots were handmade. Castle estimated that they would have easily cost at least five hundred dollars. But the shirt was straight off the shelf of a bargain store. Castle had written about characters like the one in front of him, gamblers for whom it was either feast or famine. The jacket and boots were a hangover from a more lucrative time. Rick held up a 20-dollar bill, inclining his head to beckon the man over. "Put this on the guy wearing the black jeans."

Taking Rick's money, the man made a notation in a notebook. "What's your moniker?"

"Rick. And you are?"

"Around here I'm Kitz. You're betting on Jasper. He's three to one. Care to sweeten your wager?"

"Why not?" Castle replied, pulling two more twenties from his wallet. Castle took his beer to a table closer to the dartboard, more to eavesdrop on the chatter than to observe the contest. It looked like Jasper was winning, and Castle became more absorbed in the contest, until he heard whispers from the next table. "Kitz better make out on this one. I hear he's really in deep again."

"Uh huh. He was riding high there for a while. He claimed an uncle left him some money. Looks like he blew it."

"He always has. If not here, in Atlantic City or Vegas."

"Yeah. I like playing a game or making a bet now and then, but with him, it's a sickness. He makes pretty decent dough on the set. He just can't ever hold onto it."

* * *

"A gambler who perennially needs money," Castle mused to Kate as they sipped post late-feeding espressos. "The perfect suspect."

"But you don't know if he was ever anywhere near Stanley Beach or those cables," Kate pointed out. "You don't even know his real name."

"But if he is my guy, I know exactly whom to ask," Castle said. "It's too late to call now, and I'd rather do it in person anyway. If you're okay with it, I can go to the rehab facility after breakfast tomorrow. It shouldn't take too long, and I'll bring home something from Fratelli's for lunch."

Kate winked. "Don't forget the cannoli. But seriously Babe, you don't need to bribe me. I'm as interested in finding out what happened to Stanley as you are. And if someone paid Kitz to do something to those cables, I want him to get what's coming to him."

Castle leaned across the table for a coffee flavored kiss. "And this is why I love you so much."

Circling her lips with the tip of her tongue, Kate ran her hand up his thigh. "In that case, maybe you could warm up something besides my feet."

"And what did you have in mind? Your ears? Your adorable nose? Or should I be aiming to generate some heat at destinations a little farther south?"

Babe. I'll make you a deal. Put the cups in the dishwasher and get it running, then join me in bed and I'll give you a geography lesson."

Castle picked up mugs and carried them into the kitchen. "I always did learn best when I had a crush on my teacher. I can't wait."


	37. Chapter 37

Ian 2

Chapter 37

"A crew member called Kitz," Stanley considered, "there was a grip named Kitzenjammer. He was always trying to set up craps games. Jerk wanted to take a rake off the top like he was a casino. Most of the crew wanted no part of that."

Castle nodded. "That jibes with what I've been able to find out. Now tell me if you know, did anyone have a look at those cables after you were hurt?'

"What I heard from a couple of cast members who came to visit me in the hospital was that Morgan looked at them and wanted to have them sent to the police, but then they disappeared. The story was that they were picked up in the general clean-up after the equipment crashed."

"More likely someone disappeared them," Castle remarked. "Probably the same person who sabotaged them in the first place. And my money would be on Kitzenjammer - except I wouldn't want him to take the bet."

* * *

After a bag loaded with chicken tetrazzini and Italian salad had been handed over the counter, Castle took the box in which Fratelli's last six cannoli had been carefully placed, and left the deli. It was only a two-block drive back to the loft, but the treacherous sidewalk made him glad he had his car. As it was, the scrumptiousness of the cannoli almost didn't make it into Kate's delicious mouth as he slipped on a patch of glare ice. His pride was bruised, but he kept the food intact.

* * *

"Kitzenjammer, a name like that should mean something obscene," Kate commented as Castle related what Stanley had told him.

Castle speared an olive oil soaked piece of tomato. "There's our shared mind, again. I thought so too, and I googled it. It doesn't mean anything. The app changed it to _Katzenjammer_ , which means hangover. I'd say Kitz caused Stanley a hell of a lot more than that."

"But Castle, if Kitz got rid of the cables, there's no way of proving it, is there? Seems like Morgan tried hard enough."

"But Morgan was scared off," Rick reminded her. "If someone went to the trouble of doing that, there had to be some evidence, or maybe a witness, somewhere. And if Kitz was paid off, then the money for that had to come from somewhere too."

"If Blue Skies wanted it to be untraceable, they would have had to do it in cash," Kate pointed out. "No electronic record."

"But perhaps a visible one," Castle suggested. "Someone would have to have given it to him. It could have been someone on the set, or I'm hoping, someone who wasn't on the set too often, who would have been remembered. I think it's time to talk to more of the crew. I was going to do that anyway. I could talk to some of the cast, too. There's bound to be at least one old friend of Mother's. She has one in almost everything. And she spent enough time with Lakes that they had a number of acquaintances in common. I've already got a list of the cast and crew from IMDB. I'll hit mother up for any phone numbers or emails she has. I'll check social media too." He rubbed a sore spot. "With any luck, maybe I can stay off the ice for a while. Now I know why PI's wore gumshoes. It kept them from falling on their asses."

* * *

Fleur clung tightly to Ian's arm as he walked her to her bus. "I thought they might cancel school today, because of the ice," he said. "But I glad they didn't, or I wouldn't have gotten to see you. You would think it would be better when it gets a little warmer, but we have less ice when it's colder. You should get some better boots. Those are nice, but anything would look great on you. You should tell your mother you need the kind with the ridged rubber soles that won't slip as easily. There's a store near Brimming Cup that sells them. Maybe I could help you look for some on Saturday after I'm done with Jeffy."

"Papa had to keep Maman from falling on the ice when they went out last night, so I think she'll agree," Fleur said. "I could get her a pair too; we wear the same size. Do you wear the same size as your papa?"

Ian laughed and shook his head. "No. My feet are two sizes bigger than my father's. My Grandmother Rodgers told me that my grandfather, my father's father, was very tall and they probably come from him. I've never met him. Neither has my father, and there are no pictures, but Grandma says I look a little like him."

"Did he die?" Fleur asked.

Ian shrugged. "My Grandma doesn't know. He just disappeared before my father was born. My father has made up a lot of stories about him. He even based a character on him. Kind of like I based Baby Blaster on my sister, except that I know my sister."

"I don't know Maman's father either. I think he's still on Martinique. I just know that she was really mad at him. I think that has something to do with the way she acts now about Papa and me."

"My father says that the most interesting stories come from families," Ian offered. "They have a lot to do with the way people behave. And not only real families, but sometimes the families people make, like cops who work together."

"Or like you and Jeffy," Fleur suggested.

Ian nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Then I guess sometimes making families can be a good thing," Fleur decided.

"Yeah, I guess it can."

* * *

Castle checked the comments on the Facebook page that had been set up by fans in support of Stanley Beach. He had left a post, but without much expectation of a useful reply. He was surprised by a response from a name he recognized as a crew member, inviting him to send a message. He sent one immediately. His call to his mother had gone to voicemail. He assumed that she was in one of the periodic meditation marathons she did to gain a greater bonding with her character, and would get back to him when she was finished. She had a performance scheduled for that evening so she'd have to come back to earth at least enough to deal with her costume and makeup.

He had more than enough to do until she got in touch or he received answers to his other queries. He'd fallen behind writing his Moses Shannon story, and he wanted to finish it. It would require more archaeological research, something he found fascinating. He buried himself in the electronic version of dusty tomes until a notice appeared in the bottom corner of his screen. He'd received an answer to his message: "Someone needs to know the truth. The world will listen to you. Can we meet?"

Castle sent an immediate answer. "Name the time and place."

J.B. Jones regarded the sentence his partner Dan Crocker pointed to on his iPad and put up his hand for a high five. "That asshole's been asking way too many questions. I can't believe he took the bait so easily, but it's time for Richard Castle to have an accident, a fatal one."


	38. Chapter 38

Ian 2

Chapter 38

"Babe, I don't like it," Kate said. "It was too easy. And the message you got doesn't make sense. If someone had something to say, why not tell Morgan or call the cops? Now suddenly some mystery man wants to spill his guts to you; it doesn't smell right."

"You may have a point," Castle allowed. "But if I want answers, if I'm going to get them for Stanley, what can I do? No one else has come out of the woodwork yet to answer my posts, and Mother hasn't gotten back to me either."

"Then maybe you should wait until she does."

"I can't, Kate. I agreed to a meet."

"Then you need protection. I could call the boys; maybe they can keep an eye on you. They're just working on paperwork right now anyway when they're not playing cookie hockey. They'll probably be glad to get out of the precinct for a while. Or I could get Mrs. Mays to watch Amelia and go with you."

"Kate, if this is some kind of a trap, we can't have both of us in the crosshairs. Call the boys."

* * *

J.B. tapped his fingers impatiently against his crossed arm as he watched Dan Crocker working with a crowbar. "What the hell is taking so long? You should have more muscle than that. You were a hockey enforcer, for Christ's sake!"

"Until I got my face smashed in 10 years ago," Dan reminded him. "Since then I haven't had to hit anything bigger than a golf ball. And where's that muscle of yours; the guy who sent Morgan running to New Jersey peeing his pants?"

"He and his boyfriend had a fight, so he went off to scout out new meat at some ski lodge. I was going to let him go anyway. He's been jockeying for a raise, and I'll be taking off for California as soon as we get things wrapped up here. There's a Chinese investor out there just panting to give me his money."

"Don't you mean give us his money?" Dan queried.

J.B. coughed. "Damn wind! Yeah, of course, I meant us. You and me. Brand new production. New influx of cash. Once we get rid of this Castle asshole, no one is going to be paying any attention to Beach anymore."

Dan stepped back, putting down his crowbar and wiping his forehead on his sleeve, despite the temperature. "That's ready to go. All it will need is a little push and Castle will be a stain on the pavement."

J.B. consulted his Rotonde de Cartier chronograph. "Good, 'cause it's almost time for him to show up."

"Castle, put this in your ear, all the way in your ear," Esposito instructed. "You'll hear us, and we'll hear you."

"We'll be watching from right across the street," Ryan added. "Anything feels off; you get out of there."

"It's nice to know you're so concerned with my well-being," Castle said.

"The hell with your well-being!" Esposito retorted. "Anything happens to you, Beckett'll have our asses on a spit."

"Just watch yourself," Ryan finished.

Castle gazed up at the regentrified apartment building. It had to be at least a hundred years old, but the solid structure had been blasted clean. Stone gargoyles glared down from the edge of the roof. It was a little strange that a member of the crew could afford to live there, but there were still a few rent-controlled apartments left around the city. It might have been a lucky legacy. He'd been instructed to ring the buzzer for the outside intercom three times and wait. He pushed the button with a leather gloved finger.

Ryan pointed upwards. "Javi look! There are guys up there and they… Castle! Get out of there! Now!"

Castle stepped back just as the hurtling stone figure smashed against the ground, pelting him with dust and hunks of stone and concrete."

Esposito and Ryan exploded from their car, running across the street as fast as they could make it through the traffic. "Castle, are you okay?" Ryan shouted.

Castle was bent over coughing against the particles invading his lungs. "Yeah! Just get the sonofabitch!"

"Two sons of bitches," Esposito corrected, coming up to the door and pounding every button. "N.Y.P.D.!"

A buzzer sounded and the lock released. Ryan and Esposito dashed into the building, drawing their weapons. Esposito pointed to a staircase. "Roof," Ryan nodded and took the elevator, hoping that one of them would catch the men who had tried to flatten Castle. He met up with Esposito just in time for both of them to come face to face with the fleeing pair descending from the roof. Dan Crocker was white knuckling his crowbar.

"Javi," Ryan inquired as they pointed their guns at the would-be killers. "Don't you just love it when perps are so dumb they're still holding onto the evidence?"

"Yeah," Esposito agreed, staring triumphantly at J.B. and Dan. "And you two dumbasses are under arrest."

* * *

"Thanks, guys, for letting me sit in on this," Kate said.

"Are you kidding?" Ryan responded. "That collar was the most fun we've had in a long time. How often do we get to catch attempted murderers red-handed? But I don't think this is going to take long. That J.B. Jones was so scared I thought he was going to puke before we got him back to the precinct. And I don't think his night in holding was a happy experience. How's Castle doing?"

"He's still coughing up dust, and he's got a bunch of bruises all over him from the rocks that hit him, but the doctor said he's going to be all right. He said he'd take care of Amelia while I'm here, but I have Mrs. Mays watching both of them. Are we doing Jones and Crocker together or splitting them up?"

Ryan grinned. "Definitely splitting them up. A few of the guys around here - Montgomery included - are placing bets on which one of them will throw the other one under the bus the fastest. There's even a pool on just how long it will take."

Kate grinned back. "Let's do it!"

* * *

Castle rocked his daughter as she drank from a bottle of milk Kate had pumped before she left for the Twelfth. A hot shower that morning had helped ease his soreness and his breathing, but a warm baby was even better. The vibrant life that flowed from the rapidly growing bundle revitalized his soul. He would have liked to be at the precinct with Kate, but she'd had very little chance to shine lately, and the box was where she had always glowed like a supernova. And Ryan had promised him video recordings of the proceedings. Later, he and Kate could kick back and enjoy them. He stroked Amelia's rapidly growing hair. It was softer and finer than Kate's with the undefinable baby smell, which summoned every instinct in his body to hold her close. His muscles relaxed as he inhaled.

* * *

Every muscle in Dan Crocker's body was tense, except his sphincter, but fortunately for him, he was already empty enough for the colonoscopy that would have been preferable to what he was presently enduring. The eyes of the woman who sat across from him were as terrifying as they were beautiful. He could feel them drilling into his brain. "It was J.B.'s idea!" he blurted out. "Everything was J.B.'s idea."

Ryan checked his watch. Montgomery had won the pool.


	39. Chapter 39

Ian 2

Chapter 39

Castle dug into the gallon bowl of popcorn he shared with Kate. "Is it the quality of the video, or does Jones look green?"

"He was green alright, especially when he found out that Crocker had put everything on him. Too bad for Crocker that he was the one holding the crowbar. There are search warrants issued for both of their apartments and their bank records. When the forensic accountants are finished, some of their investors may even get some of their money back, although a lot of it was blown. Jones has a thing for the tables in Vegas. That's how he picked Kitzenjammer. He recognized a fellow traveler."

"What about Stanley Beach? Is he going to get anything?"

"Maybe if he wants to go to court and sue for Jones' and Crocker's assets. But for now, he'll just have to have the satisfaction of knowing that the guys who put him in a wheelchair are going down for it. I asked Ryan and Esposito not to talk to him. I thought you might want to give him the news."

"That would be my pleasure," Castle said. "And if he wants someone to help him out in getting a lawyer, I'll do that too."

"He might want to try my father," Kate suggested. "Going after rip-off artists is right in his ballpark. It's been mostly large corporations, but I think Dad would love to go after Jones and Crocker for Stanley."

"I like it," Castle agreed. "He might as well be part of the family enterprise."

* * *

Fleur pointed at the display in a boutique window. "Were those the kind of boots you meant?"

"Something like those," Ian replied. "You want to look around inside? There may be some that you or your mom would like better." He pushed the door open as Fleur nodded. In a store full of women's shoes and purses, Ian suddenly felt out of place. When he'd been a kid, he'd always gone shopping with his Dad. He knew his father bought things for women, but Ian had never been with him when he did. He felt better when Fleur reached for his hand as they walked around. He thought a lot of what he saw would appeal to Kate. She did love high heels, even on her boots. It had made her a good model for some of his characters who were throwbacks to the days when comic book heroines like Wonder Woman had worn high heels, even if they made no sense as something to fight in. But even Kate wore boots with ridged flat soles on icy sidewalks. She just managed to find some that were attractive. Fleur would look great to him in anything, but the last thing he wanted was for Fleur to bring home something her mother wouldn't like. If she did, it might be a while before her next shopping trip. He scanned the racks and displays carefully until he spotted boots a lot like what Kate had in her winter wardrobe. "You like those? You think your mom would?"

Fleur picked one up. " _Très charmant_ , but American sizes are different than European sizes. I need to try them on." She looked around. "Is there any place to sit?" Ian didn't see a chair handy. "No. Stupid isn't it? My Dad told me that when he was a kid, shoe stores had rows of chairs and shoe salesmen brought out boxes of shoes for customers to try on, but they mostly do that only in the really expensive stores now." He knelt on one knee and patted the horizontal expanse of his thigh. "You can sit here." Fleur dropped onto her improvised perch, steadying herself by holding Ian's shoulder, and pushed her feet into the boots she'd pulled from the rack. An image of a wedding proposal popped into Ian's mind and an only slightly terrified smile crept over his lips.

"What?" Fleur asked. "They fit. Don't they look right to the artist's eye?"

"They look just perfect," Ian assured her.

* * *

"You look a little worse for wear," Stanley Beach observed, noting a blotch of blue along Castle's jawline.

Castle shrugged and smiled. "Nothing that won't heal, and it was worth it Stanley. We got 'em. The guys responsible for injuring you are going to be behind bars for a long time. They couldn't wait to betray each other. Besides what they did to you, they stole a hell of a lot of money. I know it won't give you your legs back, but if you'd like to go after them, my father-in-law is one hell of a lawyer, and he'd be willing to take you on. I don't know how much you care about the money, but when you get out of here, it could help you live someplace adapted so that you'd have some independence. Maybe get your career back on track. I hear they're thinking of bringing an updated Dr. Kildare back to the silver screen. You could do Lionel Barrymore one better as Dr. Gillespie."

Stanley pressed his chin into his palm. "I'll have to think about that, Castle. I've been focused on seeing someone pay for what happened to me ever since I lost the use of my legs; I couldn't deal with the thought of getting back in front of the camera or on stage."

"Well if there's anything else I can do, you know how to reach me. My father-in-law is James Beckett. I'll leave his number with you."

* * *

"You know," Castle said as Ian stuffed a huge amount of the barbecued beef that had spent the day simmering in the crockpot, between the halves of a Kaiser roll, "Your eighteenth birthday is coming up soon. The State of New York abolished that milestone as an alcoholic rite of passage even before I reached it, but it is nonetheless worthy of a notable celebration. Is there anything special you'd like? I'd offer you a car since you'll be past a junior license, but for what it costs to keep one in New York, I'd be doing you no favors. And if you really need to, you can always borrow mine. Would you like a trip somewhere?"

"I don't know," Ian responded. "Everything I want is in the city, all my art stuff and Fleur. She's going to be 18 soon too, actually a week before me."

"I had no idea you were dating an older woman" Castle teased. "Maybe the two of you can have a joint party or something. Think about it."

"Yeah, I will," Ian agreed, wondering what Fleurs mother would think of the idea. He realized that he spent a lot of time wondering about what Fleur's mother would think about everything. He had no idea what the customs were on Martinique, but in New York, Fleur shouldn't need her parents' permission for anything after she turned eighteen. On the other hand, while she was in school, she would still depend on her father for support, just as he did. He'd never met Fleur's father. He wondered if Roger Clary kept as tight a rein on Fleur as Jacqueline did. As a banker, he might easily believe that those who have the gold make the rules. Fleur always worried so much about getting in trouble with her mother; she'd hardly mentioned her father except as the object of her mother's suspicions. Ian decided to ask her about him the next time they were in their projection room refuge.


	40. Chapter 40

Ian 2

Chapter 40

Fleur and Ian sipped hot chocolate that Fleur had made in the compact microwave oven Mrs. Belkin had stowed in the projection room come studio. "Did your mother like the boots?" Ian asked.

Fleur gazed down at her own boots that were a duplicate of the pair she'd delivered to her mother. "She did, for New York, but she said they wouldn't be any good in Martinique."

Ian's forehead grooved. "But you live in New York now, why should that matter?"

"Papa could get transferred back. And where we are, what we do, depends on him. As long as there is a papa in a household in Martinique, he is in charge," Fleur explained.

"Oh God, I hope you don't have to leave. I can't picture being without you."

"I can't picture being without you either," Fleur confessed. "Papa hasn't said anything about it, and he likes it here, so I think everything will be all right for a while."

"But your mom has to do what he says?" Ian asked.

"Except for the things she does that he doesn't know about, like going through his pockets when he's been away."

"And your papa, is he nice? I mean, is he like your mother about not wanting you to go places and do stuff?"

"He can be strict, but he's not like _Maman_. He doesn't have the hurt she has. And there's something else about _Maman_ and me."

Ian brushed the dark hair back from her face. "What?"

"I'm lighter than _Maman_ because Papa's white. In the United States, people talk about color all the time. You and your family aren't like that, but you can't live here without knowing people hate each other because of it."

Ian sighed. "I know. My Dad doesn't hate anyone except criminals who hurt people, and he taught me not to either, but it's part of the history of this country. New York didn't have slavery or anything, but there are still bigoted people here."

"Martinique did have slavery," Fleur explained. "It's been gone for a long time. It ended before it did here, but we have some reminders too. To many people, the lighter your skin, the more status you have, so to _Maman_..."

"I get the picture," Ian said "But in New York, it shouldn't matter. It never could to me. But as long as your papa is in charge, at least officially, I was wondering about something else. My Dad always makes a big deal about birthdays, and 18 is special anyway. He asked about giving me a party and maybe giving it for both of us since our birthdays are so close. Do you think your papa would approve?"

"What kind of a party?" Fleur asked.

"Whatever I want, but my dad likes to go big. When I was seven, I had a party that took over almost all of one of those restaurants where kids eat pizza and play games. And there was one year where we had a private party in an animation museum. That was really cool. Maybe we could invite a bunch of kids, like our social studies class. Everyone there knows both of us. Or my art class, almost everyone there knows you, or at least what you look like in my drawings. Maybe everyone could go to a movie or one of those little theaters and then eat someplace. It would be fun, and if your papa says okay, it shouldn't scare your mom too much with all those other kids around."

Fleur took a sip of was now cool chocolate. "I don't want to make _Maman_ mad by just asking Papa. Papa is supposed to be home for dinner tonight. I'll ask them together."

Stanley Beach stared at the number for James Beckett that Richard Castle had put into his cell phone. Nothing any lawyer did could ever give him his legs back, but Castle was right. Stanley was well regarded in the business, but he'd never made "A-List" money. Much of the time, if he liked a project, he'd worked for scale. He had savings, but they wouldn't last forever, and they wouldn't finance the kind of help, barring some medical miracle, he was going to need if he was going to resume his career. And was going to take up his career again. Jones and Crocker may have taken away his ability to dart about on stage, but they could never steal his talent.

Jim regarded the ID on his cell. Rick had told him the call might be coming, but he hadn't expected it so soon. "Jim Beckett." Stanley's eyebrows rose. He had been expecting to reach a secretary, not the lawyer's private number. That was worth a few points for Rick. Stanley identified himself.

"Yes Mr. Beach," Jim responded. "Rick told me about what you've been through, and my daughter gave me a blow by blow on the criminal actions against Crocker and Jones. Since any fraudulently obtained monies recovered would normally be returned to the victims from whom they were stolen, we'll have to file a suit to attach whatever other assets they may have. I believe the court will be sympathetic to your situation and I know a judge or two who certainly will be. But it will all take time. As I understand it, the monies have yet to be traced. It is possible they might be hidden offshore, or invested in goods or property. But we'll get the paperwork started and expedite things as much as possible."

"How about your fee?" Stanley inquired.

"This is the kind of case I enjoy taking pro bono, and any expenses I incur have been taken care of."

"That's very kind, Mr. Beckett."

Jim chuckled. "Not at all. My daughter and my son-in-law go after the crooks hands on, but in my own way I get a kick out of seeing the bad guys pay."

"Regardless, you have my thanks," Stanley said.

"I'll be in touch," Jim promised.

When he returned from school, Ian scanned through his emails. Most of them were ads for art materials. A few were from students at SVA wanting to coordinate on a project, but there was one that was surprising. It was from Dark Force Comics. They said that they had been impressed by Baby Blaster, and requested a meeting. They also made a note that he was to bring a parent or guardian if he was a minor. Ian converted the text to voice to make sure he had every word of the message straight. Dark Force wasn't usually interested in amateurs. They put out comics that were continuations of some of his favorite shows which had gone off the air, and they often hired the original TV writers to pen them. He couldn't imagine what they'd want with the author of a self-published freebie like Baby Blaster. But he forwarded a copy of the email to his father and Kate. If there were something weird about it - weirder than he already thought - they'd check it out. He reached into his backpack. His sketchbook was in there, but so were his homework assignments. Sighing, he started the one for Mrs. Katz's class. At least with social studies, he could keep the image of Fleur sitting across the room from him in his head, while he plowed through the history of the anti-war movement of the '60's and '70's.

Castle stared at the email Ian had forwarded to him. Dark Force was definitely a rising star in the comic book universe. And he knew just whom to call there to find out what they wanted with Ian.


	41. Chapter 41

Ian 2

Chapter 41

Castle waited until midnight when he knew Joshua Dunne would be hard at work crafting his latest story and working through a glass of tequila, before he called. "Hey Castle," the writer responded. I haven't seen you since we were on Conan together. What's going on?"

"Josh, you write for Dark Force, don't you?'

"Of course. Season ten of Spear Girl."

"So, would you have any idea why they would want to talk to my son Ian about his giveaway comic, Baby Blasters?"

"How old is Ian?" Josh asked.

"Almost 18, why?"

"That makes sense. Dark Force is starting a junior bullpen. DC did something like that in the '70's. They think that we old fogies aren't appealing as much to the younger set, so they're looking for fresh talent."

"Ian's in high school, and when he graduates, he'll be going to SVA. He can't sit around in a bullpen."

Josh took a sip of tequila. "Castle, Dark Force, no matter how ominous its name, isn't looking to snatch kids out of school to make them apprentices carrying all the water for their aging masters. They'll be talking about part-time contract work that could be converted by the professionals into something salable. He won't have to do anything that cuts into his schoolwork; probably no more than he's doing now. The difference is that he'll get paid for it and he'll be getting some professional experience. It's a good opportunity, Castle, if that's what he wants to do, and from what I've heard, the chance isn't being offered to many kids."

"It does sound interesting," Castle admitted. "My son and I will take the meeting and evaluate what they offer."

"That response was very 'Pretty Woman' Richard Gere," Castle," Josh commented with an edge of disgust in his voice. "You need to go to a con, loosen up a little."

Castle rolled his eyes."Right. Josh, if I wander off to a con and dump all the care of a new baby on Kate, there will be some stuff loosed on me - and I'll deserve it. If Ian ends up working for Dark Force, we may turn a trip or two into family forays. But I appreciate the info."

"Yeah well, just don't let that son of yours knock me out of the box too soon, My kids are beyond the baby stage, but they still need new shoes. And so does my wife- shelves of them."

Castle couldn't help grinning. "Believe me, I understand"

* * *

Amelia regarded her grandfather wide-eyed as he explained in detail the significance of runs batted in, before he took a break from making an early convert to the American pastime and joined the rest of the family at the dinner table. His attention shifted to Kate and Rick. "You two sure can pick the cases. Jones and Crocker are like younger stupider Madoffs."

"Madoff was slime, but he never put anyone in a wheelchair," Castle pointed out. "Those two deserve whatever the D.A. can throw at them. Whatever Stanley Beach can manage to recover, it could never be enough."

"You're right about that," Jim agreed, "That's why I wanted to take the case, and I appreciate you picking up the expenses."

"No big deal," Castle said. "It isn't often that I get to be so up close and personal in giving a guy a break. And Jones and Crocker are going to make great villains when I figure out how to use them. I like to go for the win-win. I won big time getting your daughter to marry me."

Jim raised his coffee cup in salute to the couple. "I could never dispute that."

* * *

Castle stared across the table at Mack Richards. He'd pictured him as younger, although that expectation made little sense since Mack had started the company in the '80's. Richards was flanked by a man and a woman in their '30's, which did make sense if Dark Force was trying to appeal to Millennials and their kids. "Ian, we've been very impressed with your work. Baby Blaster is just the sort of book that will bring in younger readers who can grow up with our brand," Mack began.

"You want to publish Baby Blaster?" Ian asked.

Mack nodded noncommittally. "Perhaps, with a few changes and a more professional presentation, but what we really had in mind is your future work, possibly some of the characters you have in your trunk."

Ian rose a quizzical brow. "My trunk?"

"Where you throw books you can't get published until you make a name for yourself," Castle explained, "although these days, stories like that are just as likely to end up as 99 cent specials on Kindle."

"Oh, I get it," Ian responded. "I've developed lots of characters. Some of them are kind of gross for adults - except for my dad - but the other kids liked 'em."

Make smacked the table with his palm. "Excellent! Ian, we have a contract to offer you. Since you're underage, your father will have to sign it."

"Ian's father has been in publishing too long to sign anything without having a lawyer look at it, but we'll take a copy and get back to you," Castle declared.

"I would have expected as much," Richards acknowledged.

"Looks like you'll have something else to celebrate at your birthday party if my lawyer signs off on this," Castle offered as he and Ian walked to the subway together after the meeting.

"Why not just show the contract to Kate's Dad?" Ian wondered.

"Because he's doing enough free work for Stanley Beach and he wouldn't charge family. Also, my lawyer has a couple of decades of experience with the intricacies of publishing contracts, and you want to get started on the right foot. When I sold "In a Hail of Bullets," to Black Pawn, I was more lucky than smart, but since then, there are so many different kinds of outlets, selling any kind of creative work has become a lot more complex. But having my lawyer look at the paperwork won't slow the process down much. We can scan it to Art Simpson's office tonight, and we should have an answer by sometime late tomorrow. Preferred clients get expedited service."

"Is he like Homer Simpson? Do you bribe him with doughnuts?" Ian teased.

"He's more upscale than that. He's partial to cronuts. But better still, a good kugel will blow him away every time. I make sure I send him one of Frieda Bluestone's best, every couple of months. It keeps things humming along. And speaking of humming along, time is flying, and you haven't told me whether you and Fleur want a party together, and if so, what kind. We're already close to the deadline for making decent arrangements anywhere."

"She said her parents are still thinking about it, but she promised them there would be a lot of people with us."

"Then assuming the Clarys agree, I have a proposal," Castle said. "I know a guy who can come up with a bunch of tickets for the premiere weekend of the new 'Star Strider.' Then how about pizza and cake from Fratelli's, afterward?"

Ian shrugged, raising the palms of his large hands skyward. "Sounds perfect, but I need to talk to Fleur."

The corners of Castle's eyes crinkled. "Son, your training now will stand you in good stead should the marriage bug ever chomp at your heart."


	42. Chapter 42

Ian 2

Chapter 42

"Honestly Rick," Art Simpson said, "If this were a contract for Ian to write for established Dark Force characters, it would be a good deal, especially at his age. But since they decided to pick him up on the basis of one of his own characters, that makes it an entirely different ballpark. You remember what happened to Siegel and Shuster, the two boys who invented Superman? They sold him to D.C. for a pittance, when just the merchandising alone, never mind the television shows and the movies, turned out to be worth a fortune. Your son's comic is based on a baby, correct?"

"That's right," Castle confirmed, "Baby Blaster, based on the piercing tones emitted by my exquisite but loud new daughter."

"So, and I'm not by any means saying this will happen, but just suppose that Baby Blaster becomes the toy of the year next Christmas, or there is a television show or movie based on her. Unless you protect Ian's rights to license his original characters, he could be missing out on a chance to be set for life."

"So, what do we do?" Castle asked.

"I'll put together an addendum to his contract, limiting the rights granted for the use of his original characters, meaning that if any of them do hit above a certain level, he'll be eligible for a royalty instead of just a wage. We'll also need an audit provision, so you can verify what profits Dark Force makes from any of Ian's creations. If Dark Force will go along with that, and Ian wants to do it, I'd say sign him up. If not, if Dark Force is interested, they may not be the only ones. I'd say shop around."

"Art, this month, an extra kugel. Make that two, one from me and one from Ian."

"I appreciate that Rick. I can have the addendum drawn up and get it back to you sometime tomorrow."

Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Castle took the stairs up to Ian's room to convey what the attorney had told him.

"A Baby Blaster doll," Ian considered, stroking an imaginary beard. "I've thought about action figures but not a screaming baby doll. That would be cool."

"Not to the parents of the children that receive it," Castle commented. "I could see it as a revenge gift, sort of like buying a 20-dollar toy for which there are thousands of dollars of accessories, but I think Art was just using that as an example. So, if you agree, we'll submit Art's handiwork to Dark Force and see what develops."

"Sure," Ian agreed. "Oh, and Dad, I just got a call from Fleur. Her parents are okay with the movie party, but you or Kate has to chaperone, and Fleur's mother wants to go along too."

"I guess that wipes out any chance of you and Fleur making out on the balcony."

Ian flushed. "Dad!"

"But it sounds fair," Castle continued. "I've wanted to see the new Star Strider anyway, but it's not Kate's thing. The scriptwriter used to write for "Temptation Lane," and she's never forgiven her for killing off her favorite matriarch. I'll arrange for the tickets and the banquet facilities, and let you know how many people you can invite, but start getting the invitations for the people you care about ready to roll."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Don't thank me yet," Castle cautioned. "We haven't seen the movie, but the trailer looked exciting. You might want to attach a link to the invitations."

Ian reached for his laptop. "Super cool."

* * *

Mack Richards looked over the paperwork Richard Castle had forwarded from his attorney. He had expected as much. When he'd gone after Ian for the junior bullpen, he was aware that he was the son of a best-selling author who was unlikely to be a babe in the woods. The contract he'd offered to Ian had only been an opening salvo. He could step back, but it was likely that one of his competitors would grab Ian, maybe even one of the big two, eventually. The boy's talent was evident, not only in his art, but storytelling was apparently a family trait. The deal Castle's attorney offered was fair. Mack would still be making more than a decent profit, and if what he expected to happen, did, he'd be adding a lot of prestige to the Dark Force imprint. He'd have his own attorney check out the stipulations, but he was inclined to go for the deal.

* * *

Ian spread the red tartan blanket he'd brought, on the floor of the projection room and stretched out. Fleur dropped down next to him, pulling his head into her lap. "Tired?"

I couldn't sleep last night," Ian admitted. "I was imagining seeing my work in real comic books."

"Is Dark Force going to be paying you a lot of money?" Fleur asked.

"Writers don't get paid much unless they're lucky and good like my dad, but it will be nice to know that I'm worth something on my own, you know? Not just spending my dad's money."

"I understand," Fleur said. "I've been thinking about getting a job myself. _Maman_ and Papa don't want me working in a store or anything like that, but some of the kids have asked me to tutor them in French, and that should be okay. _Maman_ is proud that our family speaks French instead of Creole. That's another status thing on Martinique."

"Your mom has some interesting hang-ups," Ian noted. "When I hear about Creole I just think about really good food. Ooh, and about the food, my dad booked a restaurant for the party. It's Gianinni's. They have good pizza - not as good as Stephano's - but it's walking distance from the theater where Star Strider will be playing. And they'll let us bring in our own cake. I thought we could have the bakery make whatever your favorite is. I like everything."

"That's really sweet, Ian, but I think we like a lot of the same things, like egg creams and Dr. Pepper. Do you think a bakery could make a Dr. Pepper cake? In Martinique, they put rum in everything, but I think Dr. Pepper would be nice."

"I've had Dr. Pepper cake, before," Ian said. "Someone brought one to a party my Grandma Blaine threw. It was great. It had cherries on it. Grandma Blaine was upset all night because the guests liked it better than the lemon torte she made, but that's my Grandma Blaine. I think sometimes she likes being upset."

Fleur nodded her understanding. "Like _Maman_."

"Anyway," Ian continued. "I'll find out if the bakery can make a Dr. Pepper cake. Dad put me in charge of that part of Operation Eighteen."

"Your papa really trusts you, doesn't he?" Fleur asked.

"I guess he does. We've gone through a lot together, and a lot of the time it was just the two of us, so we had to figure out how to make it work. That was tough when he fell in love with Kate. I mean I like her and all, but he got shot when he was with her, and I was really mad at her. But we got through it. We try to be straight with each other. I can't understand people who love each other lying to each other."

Fleur leaned over to kiss his lips softly. "Me either. I just wish _Maman_ could be like us."


	43. Chapter 43

Ian 2

Chapter 43

Jacqueline Clary's eyes swept appraisingly over Castle. She thought she'd seen him at the school art exhibit, but hadn't realized he was Ian's father. They both stood on the sidewalk outside the theater with Ian, Fleur and the group of their friends that was gathering. The movie had opened the night before, but there was still a crowd clamoring for tickets like the ones Castle held in his hand. She understood that he had arranged to have a section of good seats roped off for the partygoers. To do that would take money, connections or both, but it was obvious that he at least had money. She could tell that his shoes were custom made. She couldn't see his shirt under the topcoat he wore, but she wouldn't be surprised if it had sprung from a tailor's hand rather than the machine of a woman working for starvation wages. Jacqueline rarely trusted rich men. They had the means to take advantage of women and girls, and in her experience often did so. To his credit, Castle was only glancing at the girls in the group long enough to mark them off his list. Fleur had said that Ian's mother had passed away when Ian was a baby and Castle's present wife was quite beautiful. Perhaps that was enough to satisfy him, and he was the rare faithful man. Jacqueline would observe where his eyes traveled during the day.

When Castle had ticked off the last guest from his list, the group was led in a side door to find their seats. The long string of ads and previews had yet to begin, and Ian handed out coupons for the concession stands so that his guests could get what they liked. When the lights finally went down, Ian reached for Fleur's hand in the dark, to avoid upsetting Jacqueline.

Star Strider featured more action than romance. Dirk, the hero, bravely fought off space pirates and rescued the royal artifacts belonging to the princess of a strange but beautiful world. Both her gratitude and attraction were clear on the screen, but in the end, Dirk had to fly off to deal with another crisis and his princess was left to rule her people with a firm but compassionate hand, hoping that he would live to find her again. I hope that we never have to leave each other like that," Ian whispered to Fleur. She just pressed her head against his shoulder.

After the movie, Castle and Jacqueline shepherded the party-goers the few blocks to Giannini's. A back room had been prepared with long tables covered in red and white checked tablecloths. A banner hung on the wall, proclaiming happy birthday to Ian and Fleur. The cake had been delivered by the bakery and was set up at a side table, ready to be cut after the teenagers had sucked in massive quantities of pizza. Several servers took orders for soft drinks which were promptly delivered to the tables. Ian had obtained preferences ahead of time, so fresh pizzas were provided to the assemblage as soon as the drinks had been served. The conversation mostly centered on the special effects in the movie battles and whether Dirk and Chiara would ever reunite.

The invitations had specified that gifts were not expected, but a few guests had brought presents anyway, Ian and Fleur opened them before the 36 candles in the cake were lit, 18 for Ian and 18 for Fleur. Shoulder to shoulder, the pair blew them out together to applause from the room, and Fleur noted that even her mother had joined in. The guests drifted out slowly until Jacqueline ushered Fleur to a cab for the trip home and Castle departed for the subway with Ian, grateful that someone else would be cleaning up the few scraps left of pizza and the cake crumbs and bits of fallen frosting.

"I have a surprise for you," Castle said, as he and Ian made the short walk from the subway to the loft.

"Dad, you didn't have to. The party was amazing."

"I know, I didn't have to. I wanted to. I asked Kate to put something in your room while we were gone."

After stowing his coat and kissing his wife, Castle linked hands with Kate and the couple mounted the stairs to join Ian in his room where the teen was already regarding a sheet covered bump on his desk. Castle pulled away the sheet with a flourish.

Ian gazed open-mouthed. "That's a Mac Pro, the one that just came out!"

"You're a professional now," Castle declared proudly. "You deserve professional tools."

Ian unabashedly collided with his father in a heartfelt hug and kissed Kate on the cheek.

* * *

"You must be exhausted after supervising all those teenagers," Kate offered when Castle was shedding his clothes to turn in for the night.

"Not really," Castle replied. "The movie and the pizza kept them occupied. And compared to herding toddlers or Omigod, middle schoolers, it was easy. You will get to experience all of that with Amelia. You'll be able to keep up better than your aging husband."

Kate snuggled into him as they climbed into bed together. "I haven't noticed any signs of a slowdown, but maybe we should test your theory."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Castle inquired. "Do you you have a toddler or a sixth grader or two hidden somewhere on the premises?"

"I thought we might test your response times," Kate suggested, pressing her lips to the warm expanse of his chest. "For example, when I do this."

"My circulation may be speeding up a little," Castle responded.

"How about this?" Kate inquired, slipping her hand beneath the drawstring of his pajama bottoms.

"Definitely getting a rise out of that."

"I can tell," Kate purred. She dipped her head beneath the covers, circling his growing heat with her tongue. "And this?"

"I think the old bones are warming up."

"Good," Kate replied, "because the fire I'm feeling has nothing to do with my bones."

"Then perhaps," Castle proposed, reaching for the center of Kate's arousal, "we can go up in a blaze of glory together."

"That," Kate confided, "was just what I had in mind."

* * *

Jim Beckett pored over the information about the claimants to whatever could be recovered from Jones and Crocker. There were many of them, mostly investors Jones had approached at an elite country club where he had managed to weasel a membership. None of them had been regular investors in show business ventures, but Jones had convinced them that with Stanley Beach on board and Jonathan Lakes directing, they couldn't lose. If Jones and Crocker hadn't arranged for disaster to descend on Stanley, Jones might very well have been telling the truth - which would have been a catastrophe for him. As it was, the investors deserved some recompense, but they were all wealthy and would survive nicely without one. Stanley was a different matter. Whatever legal maneuvering it took to make sure that Stanley stayed at the head of the queue, no matter how adept the counsels of the other parties were, Jim was determined to do it. He would be the most enthusiastic viewer of whatever Stanley Beach's next film would be.


	44. Chapter 44

Ian 2

Chapter 44

Ian took a long swallow from his can of Dr. Pepper and shifted on the blanket he shared with Fleur. "We're going to be graduating soon. Everything's going to be different. We'll see each other at the Boys and Girls Club, but I'll be spending a lot of time working for Dark Force, and you'll be doing your tutoring. It will be hard to find times and places to be together like this. Do you think your parents will let us date, I mean just the two of us? You are eighteen now. You can sign contracts and everything. "

Fleur's fingers twisted in the fabric of her dress. "There may be more of a change coming than graduation. There's a chance Papa may be transferred back to Martinique. He didn't say anything to me about it, but I heard him talking to _Maman_. They're building another bank there, and they may want him to be in charge of it. Nothing's settled yet, but if it happens, I would have to go back to Martinique. I don't want to, but I'd have no choice."

Ian slammed his palm against the floor of the projection room. "Why? If you want to stay, you could get a better job than tutoring, and get a little place of your own. Better still, we could move in together. Between the two of us we could afford a little apartment - maybe a very little apartment. But still, we could be together."

"Ian, it's not that simple," Fleur explained. "My right to be in this country depends on being an unmarried child of my father. That will last until I'm 21. But if he goes, I'd be undocumented. I couldn't work, or anything and immigration could send me back to Martinique at any time."

"Ian shook his head. "It's not fair!"

Fleur brushed back the hair that had fallen on his forehead. "It may not happen. There are other's that could be picked to run the new bank, and it hasn't even been built yet."

"Whether it happens or not, we need to find a way to spend every minute we can together. Maybe you can help me with my work. Dark Force has characters that come from all over the world. Maybe we can create one from Martinique, together. Dad or Kate would be in the loft if you were there. You could tell your parents we'd be chaperoned."

Fleur rubbed her hand over her face. "Ian, I've never been allowed to be in a boy's bedroom, even in a house with other people in it. _Maman_ is always saying it only takes _un instant_ for bad things to happen to a girl."

"My Dad has offered to have a little studio built for me as a graduation present, to do my work for Dark Force and SVA. I wasn't sure about it. But I can tell him yes. There'd be no bed. And it would be next to the office where my father works. There would be nothing for your mother to worry about. I can ask Dad and Kate to invite your parents to dinner to talk about it. Dad's pasta carbonara can convince almost anyone of anything, and your mom seemed okay with him at our birthday party. Dad has some wine that's supposed to be really good, too."

A smile twitched at corners of Fleur's full lips. " _Maman_ and Papa do like fine wine, _Maman_ especially. A dinner could help."

Ian sprang to his feet and extended a hand to help Fleur up. "Awesome! I'll talk to Dad and Kate as soon as I get home."

* * *

As soon as Jacqueline Clary came through the door of the loft, she eyed Kate with suspicion. "I remember you from the merger party I went to with Roger. You were the one who talked about having a sweet stepson and some men being good ones."

Kate possessively took Castle's arm. "And I meant every word of it."

Roger Clary quickly intervened, loudly sniffing the air. "Something smells _magnifique_!"

"Before we start, how about a glass of Picpoul de Pinet?" Castle offered.

Roger nodded. "An excellent choice. Jacqueline join us."

Castle poured the crisp white wine and raised his glass. "To a bright future."

" _À votre santé,_ " Roger replied.

Amelia's wail vibrated through the air. "Excuse me," Kate said. "Sounds like my daughter needs a change."

"May I see _votre bébé_?" Jacqueline asked.

"Of course," Kate agreed.

Amelia kicked vigorously while Kate fitted a fresh diaper around her, and Jacqueline looked on. "Sooner than you know, you will have to worry about _les garçons_ ," Jacqueline opined.

"I know," Kate agreed. "My mother was killed when I was 19, but before that, I gave her plenty to worry about. I was way too fond of a certain grunge musician. My father worried about me for years. But he's relaxed now that I'm married to Castle. And they raised me to look out for myself. I never got myself into a situation I couldn't fix. Rick and I won't be bringing Amelia up to be afraid of the world, but we will make sure that she knows how to take care of herself, even if I have to put her through some of the paces I went through at the police academy."

"I wish I could be that confident about Fleur," Jacqueline confessed. "Your stepson seems like a nice boy, but _le pénis_ has a mind of its own."

"Jacqueline, I've spent a lot of years fighting the bad boys. Sizing people up is part of both my training and my experience. Ian is a strong, smart, young man. He's been through a lot, but he doesn't have a mean bone in his body," Kate declared. "He would never do anything to hurt Fleur. I'd be willing to bet my life on that."

When Kate and Jacqueline returned to Castle and Roger, the men were discussing the fraud perpetrated by Jones and Crocker. "I have seen many schemes," Roger declared. "As a banker, I have often had to work with the police to try to retrieve funds swindled from my customers. But violence was never involved. Rick, you and Kate live most interesting lives. No doubt your adventures have been helpful to Rick in writing his stories. I am curious. What will become of the actor, Stanley Beach?"

"My father, Jim Beckett, is the attorney handling his case," Kate explained. "According to what he's told me, he's making good progress in helping Stanley return to his career. He discovered that Jones invested in some real estate some time ago. It was almost worthless at the time. No doubt Jones intended to parcel it out and scam buyers into paying more than it was worth. But the joke was on Jones. If he had waited for a while, he could have made an honest profit. A major fulfillment center will be built nearby, and the value of the land has skyrocketed. My father has filed suit to have it sold, with the profits going to Stanley Beach. Since the land is not part of the monies stolen from Jones' investors, there is no reason their claims should be put ahead of Stanley's. My father expects a favorable ruling."

"Your father sounds like a good lawyer," Roger offered.

"Jim's a good man," Castle declared.


	45. Chapter 45

Ian 2

Chapter 45

To avoid limiting the seating for family and friends of the students, Ian's school had rented a movie theater for graduation, rather than holding it in the auditorium. Rick and Kate arrived early to assure themselves of a good view. Jacqueline and Roger Clary joined them, fifth row, center. Long before the ceremony started, almost every seat was taken. Rick and Kate sat patiently through the principal's speech, holding hands. The department heads were next, handing out awards and certificates of merit to high achieving students. Pride showed on Roger Clary's face, and Jacqueline's mouth held a slight upward tilt when Fleur received the social studies award. The art award was last. Rick and Kate both clapped loudly enough to redden their hands and Kate whistled as Ian climbed the stairs from the student section to the podium to accept it. He shook hands awkwardly with Mrs. Belkin and returned to his seat as quickly as he could, grasping the miniature brass easel. The valedictory speech was mercifully short. From the way that the young lady who was giving it shuffled behind the podium, Castle couldn't help wondering if she needed a trip to the ladies' room.

The two couples met up with their triumphant student awardees after the ceremony when to the surprise of Ian and especially Fleur, Roger proposed dinner at a nearby restaurant. After Kate made a call to Mrs. Mays to check on Amelia, she, Rick, and Ian agreed.

"Rick, I am curious about the progress of the studio that you've been constructing for Ian," Roger said after the graduates had been toasted with iced tea.

"Just about finished," Castle replied. "I still have a carpenter coming in to finish some built-in storage, but Ian can tell you about it."

Ian pulled at his collar, made uncomfortably tight by his unaccustomed wearing of a tie. "It's great. You probably saw when you came for dinner, that side of the loft has great windows, so I have a lot of sunlight for drawing and painting. Sun glares on the screen of the computer, so there's a partition around the workstation to keep that from happening. And there's a table that's anchored to the floor so the large format printer I bought with my Dark Force money won't shake. And I have a drawing table and a stool that goes with it that go up and down electrically. There's another stool too, for Fleur or anyone else who works with me. And when the shelves and cabinets are finished I'll have room for all my supplies."

"That's all that will be in there?" Jacqueline asked.

"That's all there's room for," Ian replied. "I didn't think it was fair to take any more space away from the great room. Dad and Kate have guests in there, and dance."

Kate flushed, and Rick could see a wistful look flit across Roger Clary's face. "Jacqueline and I used to dance when Fleur was younger, and I was working myself up from being a teller. We haven't done it in a long time."

"You are welcome to come over and trip the light fantastic anytime, Castle replied, "or at least anytime we're not using the floor to walk Amelia."

Roger smiled. "Ah _oui_ , the baby blaster. Opportunities present themselves in the strangest ways sometimes, don't they? My bank is financing a start-up for a man who got tired of hunting for toys his dog had buried around his yard and lost, so he made some with chips molded inside that could be tracked on a phone or tablet. He used crowdfunding to produce prototypes, and the response was huge, so we are underwriting the project. _Voila_! An annoyance turned into what could possibly be a very profitable venture."

Ian finished chewing a spicy shrimp and swallowed. "Fleur and I have been talking about a way to turn something that's supposed to be evil on Martinique into a superhero." He gazed appreciatively at his girlfriend. "She can explain better than I can."

Fleur turned to her parents. "You know the stories of the _dorlis_ who can change into an animal or become invisible, then goes to women and - you know."

Jacqueline crumpled her napkin tightly in her hand as her eyes narrowed.

Fleur continued hurriedly. "Ian and I have come up with a good _dorlis_ , one that hates evil and uses its powers to protect people. It's in conflict with its own kind and has to fight to protect itself as well as the humans it guards. Ian and I will be working on the stories together, and then I'll help him get all the details right about what things look like on Martinique."

"Sounds exciting," Castle said. "Using legends is good. They're public domain and can be adapted in all sorts of ways. I've done that in several of my Moses Shannon stories. Mythology touches something very basic in the human psyche. In any case, Kate and I are more than happy to have Fleur around. One or the other of us is almost always there with Amelia, and even if we aren't, Mrs. Mays, a retired nurse-midwife who lives in the building, is. She's with Amelia now. She's very good with her."

"Having help you can depend on can be priceless," Roger commented.

Castle's eyebrow rose, expecting that there was a story behind Roger's words, but Fleur's father didn't elaborate.

* * *

Castle sighed as he climbed into bed next to Kate. Her fingers lightly brushed his arm. "What's wrong? I thought our unexpected outing with the Clarys went very well."

"It did," Castle agreed. "And I gotta say, after all the times we've been out with your guys from the precinct, I'm not used to having someone else pick up the check. It was kind of nice. The sigh factor comes from a text I just got from Sheila Blaine. It seems she was at Ian's graduation. She never confirmed she was coming, so with that crowd, I didn't save a good seat for her. Turns out she was up in the balcony. She claims she could hardly see and didn't get a good picture when Ian got his award. She said she tried to find us afterward and had no luck. So, she's in a snit because she didn't get to congratulate Ian in person. She also wished he'd been able to win something better than an art award, something academic."

Kate rolled her eyes. "She could have called to find us."

"Of course," Castle agreed. "but I'm sure it was more fun to complain about it, along with getting to imply that it is my fault that Ian didn't have some more exalted achievement - as if he didn't work his ass off to do as well as he did."

Kate pressed herself against Castle's side. "Ian wasn't the only one who worked his ass off, Rick. I don't know how you could be a better father or have supported him any more than you did. The prisons are full of semi-illiterates who had problems that were never acknowledged, so they never got the help they needed to pursue decent lives. In addition to being talented, Ian is a very lucky kid, and it's my guess that Sheila Blaine knows it. She's just not willing to admit it. But it's been a fantastic day. You can't let her get to you."

Castle pulled Kate close, pressing his lips to her hair. "I know. And in the nicest possible way, the only one I want to get to me is you."


	46. Chapter 46

Ian 2

Chapter 46

Castle gazed curiously at the ID on his phone. He couldn't imagine why Roger Clary might be calling him, especially in the middle of the workday. From what he'd observed and picked up from Fleur, the man was a workaholic. He thumbed his acceptance of the call. "Rick, it is Roger Clary. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. I wonder if we might meet somewhere for a coffee, or perhaps something stronger."

Castle couldn't help wondering if Ian and Fleur had somehow found a way to become more physically involved than they appeared, and Fleur was pregnant, But Roger's voice didn't hold the edge of anger that he would have expected if that was the urgent matter Fleur's father was referring to. If anything, the man sounded scared, even frantic. "Of course," Castle agreed. "You sound like you could use a drink. There is a pub, Mulavey's, not far from the Bank of Martinique. Do you know it?"

"I don't," Roger admitted. "I have yet to become well acquainted with the area. But I can locate it. My phone is adept at giving directions. Can you be there at 17:30?"

Rick did a quick time correction in his head. "I'll see you then."

"Do you think it's about the kids?" Kate queried when Castle relayed what Roger had said.

Castle shook his head. "I don't think so. He didn't even mention them. But whatever it is, it's important. He didn't say anything about the bank either, but from the remark he made about reliable help, at our celebration dinner for the kids' graduation, I am wondering if it might be about something - something sketchy - going down there. Can you use your contacts to see if there are any rumors about misdoings at the Bank of Martinique?"

"I can try," Kate replied.

Castle pressed his lips to hers. "Good. Thanks. I don't know how long my meeting with Roger will take, but I'll call you if it goes too long. And I'll let you know whatever I find out."

* * *

Castle joined Roger in the booth he had chosen in the darkest corner of the pub. He could detect the smell of rum from the drink Roger already had in front of him. Castle signaled a server for a scotch. "What's going on, Roger?"

"Rick, I'm not entirely sure anything is going on, but there are some transactions at our bank that I find suspect."

"If that's the case you should call the police, or better still the U.S. Attorney. Her office looks into financial misdeeds. I can give you a contact if you like. I've used some of her people as consultants from time to time."

Roger took a swallow, half draining his glass. "I can't do that. As I said, I'm not entirely sure, and if I'm wrong, it could be the end of my career with my bank or any bank. I have Jacqueline and Fleur to consider. I can't risk the welfare of my family."

"I get that," Castle agreed. "Things can be investigated quietly. I know people."

"I suspected that you do," Roger confided. "No one writes what you do without some involvement with those in that world, and of course there is your work with your wife and the police."

"I'll need to tell whomever I call what they'd be investigating. You need to tell me everything you can."

Roger took another sip of his drink. " _Oui_. There have been a number of transactions that have proceeded too quickly."

What kind of transactions?" Castle pressed.

"Real estate, mostly. Condominiums, even large estates being bought and immediately sold, often at a loss. There have been shares of businesses as well, that have made a quick turnaround, even in the midst of improvements and expansions that would have yielded a much better return if the investors had waited. Sometimes sales such as these occur because an investor has an emergency or is even just foolish. There have been too many, and they have been too consistent for me to believe that is the case, but they have fallen short of the automatic triggers for notifying the U.S. Treasury."

"So, you suspect money laundering?" Castle asked.

"Or perhaps a quid pro quo," Roger responded, "A form of payment for favors done, that could not be acknowledged."

"I think I understand," Castle said. "With your permission, I would like to discuss this with Kate, before I proceed any further. I promise you; we won't allow a word of what you've told me to get back to your colleagues at the bank."

" _Bien sûr_. At this moment you and your wife are my best hope."

* * *

"What you've told me jibes with what I heard from Anil, a guy I know who works with the racketeering investigators in the Attorney General's office," Kate told Castle when he returned. "The mobs, especially the ones with international connections, have been getting smarter. Straight cash transactions have been getting easier to trace, even when they've involved offshore accounts in Switzerland, Syria, or the Caymans. So, they began a tit for tat system. You do me a favor, then you sell me something at a huge profit, or I sell you something you can turn over for one. Since both the real estate and securities markets can fluctuate, and form bubbles, the strategy has been working for a while. Investigators are just starting to get a handle on it now, but they have a long way to go. As far as Anil knows, if the Bank of Martinique is a player in that game, it is a newcomer. That would account for why Roger may just be stumbling on this now. Anil hasn't heard of any investigation into its activities."

"Seems like it's time there was one," Castle said. "I know someone who can do that kind of work under the radar. I'll have Izzy get into it and see what he finds."

"I'll ask Anil to try to get some action from his end, too," Kate said.

Castle nodded. "Just so long as nothing leads back to Roger."

* * *

Ian bent over his drawing board. His supervisor at Dark Force had liked the evil fighting dorlis, whom he and Fleur had named Raphael. Ian had given full credit to Fleur for the authenticity and the details and been complimented on developing a good source. Ian couldn't think of Fleur that way. She was no more just a source to him than Kate was to his dad. Fleur was everything. When his dad had talked about Kate being his muse, long before they'd been a real couple, Ian hadn't fully understood what he was saying. Now he did. Ian could think up characters and stories on his own. He had for years before Fleur came into his life. But she gave him new energy and new ways of looking at things. He was spending more and more time imagining how he could be with her, the way his Dad was with Kate. He didn't know how he could make that happen, but he knew he'd find a way. He had to. If he didn't, nothing else in his life would make sense. Stories about Raphael were a good start, but there would have to be more.


	47. Chapter 47

Ian 2

Chapter 47

As usual, Izzy was munching on pistachio nuts as he Skyped with Castle. He pointed a red stained finger at the screen. Your friend was right. There have been some unusual transactions that have been funded by the Bank of Martinique. They weren't that hard to find, public records mostly. I assume no one was looking. Up until now, that bank hasn't been cited or fined for any serious infractions."

"So I understand," Castle said. "From what I've seen, my guy from there is about as straight a shooter as they come, but eventually any bushel of Macintoshes can have a wormy denizen. I'm curious, who's getting the money and for what?"

"The 64-billion-dollar question," Izzy replied. "As far as I can tell, none of the buyers or sellers involved has a record of malfeasance. Could be they were just too smart to get caught, or it could be a brand-new syndicate. Everyone's always looking for some new way to rake in the big bucks. I just haven't stumbled on what this particular group is into. But I'm curious myself. I'm going to keep my eyes open. And you're going to show up to give a reading for my wife's book club, right?"

"Cross my heart," Castle vowed."

"Great, because she's promised me that after you do, I won't have to take the trash out for a year."

* * *

What's going on with Flanagan, Marcel?" Henri Dubois demanded.

"He's been charged with failing to register as a foreign agent over that Turkey deal. He would have, but he wouldn't have been able to get far enough into the national security structure to get those sanctions dropped for us."

"See that he gets the best legal help he can," Dubois instructed. "We don't want him blabbing about our oil and nuclear deals. I'm making more money from those than I did from any other business I've ever been in, as are my partners. We just need to make sure that the favors we've been buying remain undiscovered. What do you hear from our plant at the Bank of Martinique?"

"Yanis reports that there may be a problem. The new man, Roger Clary, has been examining the records. He may have discovered something."

"Any chance that Clary may be induced to be a little less curious? Perhaps he would enjoy an apartment on Central Park West."

Marcel shook his head. "Unlikely. Yanis did a little checking. Clary comes from a family that was part of the French resistance during World War II before they emigrated to Martinique. As far as anyone knows he has inherited the righteous bent. If he makes his suspicions known, he is likely to be believed."

"Then he will have to be discredited," Dubois determined. "How dirty is Yanis willing to get his hands?"

Marcel smiled. "If he can cleanse them in green, as dirty as you like."

* * *

Kate picked up her cell as it trilled "A Londonderry Air." "Hey, Ryan. What's up?"

"Got a weird one, Beckett. Working girl, found on the sidewalk in the Wall Street district with _putain_ scrawled on her forehead. That's French for whore. She didn't have any ID on her, but her prints were in the system, she's been picked up a few times. Her name is Phyllis Kravitts, but she went by Amethyst, probably because she has purple eyes."

"So, what is so weird about a dead prostitute, Ryan? It happens too often."

"Two things. According to Perlmutter, she hadn't had sex close to the time of death, which was between six and eight last night. She was killed elsewhere and dumped because she was found this morning by a trader coming in to work at four A.M. and there was no sign of her the night before. Also, there was nothing on the body but a pen from the Bank of Martinique, but she doesn't have an account there."

"Any fingerprints on the pen?" Kate asked.

"A partial, but not enough for a definitive match."

"Did you pull the security footage from the bank?" Kate queried.

"We're scrubbing it, but so far no sign of Phyllis Kravitts. We'll be interviewing the employees there to see if any of them might have had a connection to Phyllis, but anyone who had an account could have taken that pen. They have them on every desk, to lend to customers for signing documents. We're looking for someone who might have had a grudge against Phyllis, or hookers in general, but it's a longshot."

"Castle and I know someone who works at the Bank of Martinique; we'll see what we can find out," Kate promised.

"Thanks, Beckett. Javi would never admit it, but he and I can use all the help we can get on this one."

"Kate," Castle mused when she related what Ryan had said, "do you find it a strange coincidence that just as Roger Clary is looking into questionable activities at the Bank of Martinique, there's a murder connected with the place?"

"Castle, we don't know that it is," Kate insisted. "People pick up pens and leave them places all the time. Who knows where the one on Phyllis Kravitts' body came from? But it won't hurt to ask Roger if he's ever heard of Phyllis Kravitts or an Amethyst. Will you be talking to him about what you heard from Izzy?"

"Tonight. I thought I'd wait to see if you heard anything from your contacts."

"Uh huh. I may be getting some callbacks this afternoon, but given what Izzy told you, I don't expect much. I guess we can wait until then to ask questions about Phyllis."

* * *

"You look worried," Ian noted, sketching Fleur as the sun slanted through the windows in his studio at the perfect angle to light her face.

"I am," she confessed. "Papa has been nervous, and it's not like him. He was drinking rum before supper last night, and he hardly ever does that. Usually, he'll just have a glass of wine with _Maman_ , if he has anything at all. And I could hear him walking around almost all last night. He's not usually up late. He likes to be sharp for work in the morning. Something is wrong."

"Have you asked him?" Ian inquired. "I know my dad gets migraines sometimes when he's worried about something or upset. It doesn't happen nearly as much since he married Kate, but I've always asked him what's wrong. Except when it's been some hush-hush police stuff, he's told me. I think it made him feel better."

"Papa's never told me things like that. I don't think he tells _Maman_ either. She might like it better if he did. Whenever anything goes wrong, he just always tries to fix it. He's proud of being that way like he is of the way he worked himself up in the bank. If I ask him, it might just make him more upset. But maybe I can just do something nice for him. He loved the dessert he had when he and _Maman_ came for dinner. If you can get me the recipe, maybe I can make it for him."

"Oh, I remember. That was Kate's special chocolate raspberry mousse. My dad loves it too. So, do I. We can go ask her for the recipe right now."


	48. Chapter 48

Ian 2

Chapter 48

"No," Roger Clary responded, "I don't remember a Phyllis Kravitts, but there was a _dame de la nuit_. She was outside the bank, so she would not have appeared on the security cameras. I went outside to ask her if she might move on a block or two instead of soliciting our customers. When she came back a few hours later, I had Security urge her to leave."

"Do you remember what she looked like?" Castle asked.

"She had the usual _accoutrements_ of a woman in her profession. Ah, but there was one thing. She had violet eyes. Quite startling, like your Elizabeth Taylor."

Castle stroked his hand over his roughening face. "That fits with her street name, Amethyst. Think Roger, was there any way someone from the bank might have given her a pen, or she might have taken one?"

"I can't think of any unless she did business with one of our customers and she took it from him. We lose at least ten of them a day when customers forget to return them. Our people make no effort to retrieve them. They are a form of advertising."

"I think it might have been a form of advertising your bank might have been better off without, in this case, Roger. But about the other matter that concerned you. I've confirmed that the transactions we spoke about were unusual, and possibly for criminal purposes, but there is as yet, no tie to any known felons. You've probably been wise to keep your peace so far. I have someone monitoring the situation, and if anything obviously illicit shows up, I'll let you know."

" _Merci beaucoup_ , Rick. And thank your beautiful wife for the recipe she gave to my daughter. I couldn't find a better mousse in Paris."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that, Roger. Thank you."

* * *

"Wait a minute, Beckett," Esposito interrupted as Kate transmitted what Castle had learned from Roger. "Your friend's name is Roger Clary? He was one of the possibles for the partial CSU pulled off the pen."

"So what, Espo?" Kate queried. "He works at the bank. There's no reason he couldn't have touched the pen."

"Yeah," Esposito acknowledged, "but put that together with the fact that he was the one who warned Phyllis Kravitts away, that makes him at least worth pulling in for questioning."

"Javi, everything in my gut tells me that Roger Clary would never do anything to hurt Phyllis Kravitts or anyone else. But if you do bring him in, try to be nice."

"Beckett, I'm always nice," Esposito protested, "until I have to beat on some sleazeball's ass."

* * *

Yanis smiled ingratiatingly at Ryan. "Yes, I saw that hooker outside the bank. Roger Clary went out to talk to her. It got a little heated, actually. Then when she came back, I could see he was really pissed off when he sent Security after her. He said something about having a daughter, and women like that being a bad influence."

"Anything else you can remember?" Ryan asked.

"Only that Roger Clary has been on edge ever since that hooker showed up, but if I think of anything else, Detective, I'll let you know."

* * *

"When was the last time you read for a book club, Babe?" Kate wondered. "You've done lots of signings and readings in bookstores, but I don't remember any private gatherings."

"I think the last one was to launch Nikki Heat. I haven't done many of them and usually only for charitable causes. The women get a little too touchy-feely sometimes. Not that I mind a hand or two on my ass - but it has to be the right hand. Right now, there are only two of those, and they both belong to you. However, I promised Izzy, and with his skills, he is not someone to piss off. I'll try to make an early night of it."

"That's all right," Kate assured him. "You give Izzy his pound of flesh, and Amelia and I can curl up together for a Nebula Nine marathon."

Castle slapped his forehead with his palm. "Brainwashing our daughter at such a tender age with the worst of television sci-fi! I will return as soon as possible."

* * *

"Izzy Frank met Castle at the front door of his home in Scarsdale. "Mindy is primping. She dug out her copies of every one of your books for you to sign. Most of her friends are here. You can almost smell the estrogen in the living room. On the upside, Mindy brought out the good cookies; the ones dipped in extra dark chocolate."

"Do they go with pistachio nuts?" Castle teased.

"Everything goes with pistachio nuts, Rick," Izzy insisted. "As soon as Mindy makes her entrance, I'm going to retreat. She doesn't want her experience sullied by the presence of any male but you. But if the ladies get too boisterous, plead the need for a restroom. It's right next door to my den, and you can signal for a rescue."

"I think I can manage to hold off any overenthusiastic fans," Castle said. "Kate has taught me a few moves."

Izzy wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah, I bet she has."

As far as Castle could tell, the scent that hung over the assemblage of enthusiastic readers was more an overuse of perfume, and white wine, than estrogen, but then the heavy fragrances could have masked anything. He much preferred the hint of cherries that clung to Kate's hair from her shampoo. He arranged his face in a friendly but not too friendly smile and began to read what Mindy had marked, page 104 of Heat Wave - the prelude to the sex scene. It was going to be a long night."

* * *

At first, Kate thought it was a coincidence that Amelia let out a howl every time Captain Max spoke a line. Usually, she liked male voices, but apparently not his. There weren't many scenes without him, so eventually Kate gave up on her guilty pleasure. After calming Amelia down, she began to go over the details of Phyllis Kravitts' murder. Esposito was right that the details pointed to Roger Clary. And from what she'd heard from Esposito, the banker didn't have a hard alibi. He claimed to have been walking by himself, during at least part of the kill zone, before he attended a business affair. And during the time when the body would have been dumped, his whereabouts were just as questionable. He had been home during much of it but had also reported taking a walk to clear his head. There were no cameras in either of the areas where he said he'd been walking, so there was nothing to back up his story. Since Phyllis had been strangled, the absence of blood on his clothes or shoes would prove nothing. The boys had obtained Roger's DNA from a bottle of water he'd been drinking during his interrogation. The results weren't back yet, but they wouldn't prove anything either way. Since he admitted to talking to Phyllis, a casual transfer would have been possible. The most damning evidence came from what Yanis Martin had told Ryan. But Roger denied that his conversation with Phyllis had been nearly as angry as Yanis had described. If Roger was telling the truth, then Yanis was lying. That would make Yanis worth checking out.


	49. Chapter 49

Ian 2

Chapter 49

Before climbing into bed with Kate, Castle took a hot shower to slough off the evening. It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. None of the women had asked him to sign their voluminous bosoms and the questions they'd asked hadn't been too intrusive, except perhaps the one about whether he based the sex scenes in his books on what he did with Kate. One sweet lady had asked to see pictures of Amelia, which he was more than happy to show. Cooing over the baby put the gathering in a mood that was nurturing rather than predatory. Still, the remnants of the invasion into his personal space clung to him like an aura, but at least not the kind that meant a migraine was approaching.

Kate was only half asleep. She snuggled against Rick as he spooned her, her familiar scent comforting and reassuring. Whatever annoyances he had to endure, she and Ian and Amelia were his refuge. For that, he was intensely grateful.

* * *

When Fleur arrived at the loft the next morning, her face was tear stained, and as soon as she and Ian reached his studio, she fell into his arms.

He pushed back her hair, searching her face. "What happened?"

Moisture spilled over the dark beauty of her lashes. "The bank suspended Papa! The police haven't claimed he did anything, but their suspicions are enough. Unless he is cleared, he cannot work. Our visas depend on him having that job. If the bank doesn't take him back, then _Maman_ , Papa and I will all have to go back to Martinique."

"You'll be going to college in the Fall," Ian said. "Can't you get a student visa? There are some students coming to SVA with those."

"Ian, without Papa's job, there will be no money for college. And even if there was, I looked up what it would take to get a student visa, when I started worrying about Papa being transferred. I'd have to interview, probably at an embassy in my own country. Then I'd have to wait six to twelve months. But I'd also have to prove that I'd be getting an education in the United States that I couldn't get in my home country. Martinique is part of France and France has many fine universities. Americans go there to study. The only reason I have to want to study in the United States is you." Her tears fell over ironically upturned lips. "There are no Ian Castle visas."

"I looked up a few thing too," Ian confessed. "You could stay if you were married to an American citizen. I love you, Fleur. You could marry me. We're both eighteen. No one could stop us. My father wasn't that much older than I am when he married my mother. They were still in school. I think he'd be willing to help us. But even if he didn't, Dark Force will take as much work as I can give them. We could manage."

"Ian, I love you too. I can't think of anything I'd want more than to be your wife. But you should go to SVA. You have so much talent. You have such a great future ahead of you. I couldn't ruin that."

"Without you, that future isn't worth anything," Ian protested, "but I can make one with you, whatever it takes. Promise me, that if your father isn't cleared, that if he and your mother have to go, you will marry me and stay."

Fleur cradled his face in her hands. "I will make that promise only if you will promise me that if Papa is cleared, and he and _Maman_ can stay, you will marry me after you finish SVA."

Ian grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "We have a deal."

* * *

Kate and Rick sat together behind his desk as his fingers flew over the keys. "You were right Kate; there are some questionable things about Yanis Martin. According to the report that Izzy sent me, Yanis was associated with the questionable deals that Roger found. He personally signed off on several of them and helped push through the rest. He also lives higher than what he should be able to afford on his salary, and there are no inheritances or investments to account for the extra money."

"And it would have been easy enough for him to grab a pen Roger had used and plant it on Phyllis Kravitts," Kate added. "All Yanis would have had to do is use a tissue or something to grab it by the top so that he wouldn't disturb a print on the grip. When Ryan came to question him, Yanis manipulated the story of Phyllis' appearance at the bank just enough to implicate Roger. He must have realized that Roger was suspicious and framed him to destroy his credibility."

"Which means that Yanis is most likely our killer," Castle concluded. "But how do we prove it?"

"CSU already pulled DNA from the body. They are comparing it to the sample the boys got from Roger. But if Yanis killed her, he must have left something behind, much more than Roger might have, by any casual contact. The boys need to get a sample from him. They could call him in and fake like they're trying to put the final nail in Roger's coffin. If they offer him a fancy coffee or something, I'm sure he'll take the bait."

Castle pushed an escaping strand of hair back behind her ear. "I know he would if you were spinning the tale. You are the very mistress of the box. Ooh, that didn't come out the way I meant it to, although both meanings are gloriously true."

Kate leaned in quickly for an impulsive kiss. "I appreciate that, Babe. And I can get the boys to let me in on this. Especially when I explain how much egg they'll have on their faces if they blow it and try to pin Phyllis' murder on Roger."

"With Espo, it's more likely doughnut crumbs than egg," Castle pointed out, "but I agree with your point. You truly are Ian's warrior queen. Go take down the goblin!"

* * *

Yanis had every confidence that he could seal the case against Roger Clary. The cop who called him to come down to the 12th Precinct was the same one who'd bought every word he'd said when he was questioned at the bank. He could throw in a few more details, perhaps attributing a diatribe to Roger about the sin that is corrupting teenagers; maybe even imply that Roger had some irrational obsession. On the subway, all the way to the police station, he went over what he would say in his head, embroidering little embellishments. When he arrived, he was met, as he'd expected, by Detective Ryan. He was led into a room where two other people were seated at a table. One was clearly a cop, whom Yanis guessed was Ryan's subordinate. The other was a beautiful woman whose hazel eyes sparkled enticingly. She was introduced merely as Katherine Beckett, a consultant to the N.Y.P.D. Yanis appreciated their taste in consultants. He accepted a _caffè macchiato as_ the questioning began _._ This interview was going to be even more fun than he had imagined.

With Amelia safe at the loft, in the competent hands of Mrs. Mays, Castle poured a bag of microwave popcorn into a bowl and gazed through the two-way mirror in observation. He'd seen that look on Kate's face before. Yanis Martin had no idea what awaited him.


	50. Chapter 50

Ian 2

Chapter 50

Yanis took an appreciative sip of his coffee. "As I told Detective Ryan, Ms. Beckett, I never spoke to that hooker myself, But Roger Clary did. He's also been on edge. I heard him in the restroom a couple of times muttering about sin. He seemed to be searching for the source of it like a man possessed."

Kate pulled sheets of figures from a folder and laid them out so Yanis could see them.

"Here it comes!" Castle declared triumphantly, but unheard by those inside the interrogation room.

"I believe Mr. Clary may have been quite successful in his search for sin, but it had nothing to do with Phyllis Kravitts," Kate told him. "You participated in these transactions and authorized many of them, didn't you Mr. Martin?"

Yanis scanned the pages. Despite his ultra-super masculine strength antiperspirant, he could feel his shirt dampening beneath his armpits. "Yes, of course, I did. That's part of my job at the bank."

"And you didn't find them unusual?" Kate asked. "Or bring them to a colleague for a second look? Perhaps Mr. Clary?"

"There was nothing unusual about them, Ms. Beckett," Yanis insisted, unconsciously pulling at his collar. "There was no need for a consultation."

Kate's eyes hardened. "That's not what my expert says, Mr. Martin. But let's move on to what you told Detective Ryan and reiterated here, about Roger Clary's conversation with Phyllis Kravitts. Detectives Ryan and Esposito talked to the other employees at the bank, as well as some of the customers who walked by when Mr. Clary was asking Ms. Kravitts to depart the premises. The consensus was that he could not have been politer. He remained calm and merely asked her to move far enough away so that she didn't interfere with business."

"That's not the way I saw it," Yanis claimed.

Kate nodded. "Perhaps your interpretation differed. But that is not the only thing on which your perceptions have differed from every other witness at the bank, Mr. Martin. While you have claimed that Mr. Clary was on edge, there was general agreement that you were even more so. And that you were seen lingering around Mr. Clary's desk while he was transacting business elsewhere."

"They are mistaken," Yanis protested, rising from his chair. "And I don't have to answer any more of your questions."

"No, you don't, Mr. Martin," Kate agreed, "but I expect that you will have to answer some rather pointed ones from your employer."

Yanis strode toward the door, and Kate nodded toward the uniformed officer posted there to let him go. "Surveillance in place?" she asked as soon as Yanis was free of the room. Esposito snorted. "Beckett, who do you think you're talking to? They've been ready to go ever since that scumbag got on the elevator to come up here."

Ryan pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket and used it to capture Yanis's coffee cup. "I'll get this to the lab. We have his statement that he never spoke to Phyllis Kravitts. So, if his DNA is on her body, he'll have no explanation."

Castle grinned as he listened through the intercom. "Yanis, you got some 'splainin' to do!" He grabbed Kate in a hug as she came out of Interrogation. "That was beautiful! He dug a hole, and you're going to bury him in it."

"I hope so," Kate said. "And I really hope that he'll be running to whoever is behind those deals at the bank."

"Right," Castle agreed. "We unravel this web of deception, we'll not only clear Roger, but he'll be a big goddammed hero for suspecting it in the first place." Castle pointed to the bowl he'd left nearby. "Popcorn?"

"Amelia will be fine with Mrs. Mays for a while yet," Kate said. "How about lunch, just the two of us?"

Castle offered his arm. "You don't have to ask me twice."

* * *

Henri Dubois' eyes flashed. "You shouldn't have come here, Martin. You've been paid very well for your services and our dealings are at an end."

"But the police suspect me, and the bank knows what I did. I have to get out of the city, the country maybe."

"That is not my concern," Henri declared. "Whatever resources you have, I would suggest that you make use of them, but do not come here or approach any of my people again." Henri signaled to Marcel. "Please escort this gentleman out and make sure that he does not return."

* * *

"Got it," Ryan said as he ended a call on his cell. "Javi!" he called across the bullpen. "Yanis Martin hot-footed it to a building at 1027 Madison. But he wasn't in there long. He was escorted out, and from what the team on him observed, not too gently. We need to find out who's in that building."

"And what do you wanna bet that whoever it is does business with the Bank of Martinique?" Esposito asked.

"Javi, if they don't, your next three days of doughnuts are on me."

* * *

With Amelia settled after her feeding and Ian in his studio, Londonderry Air intruded on the moment Kate and Rick were sharing over their second cup of coffee. She dug her cell out of her pants pocket. "Ryan, tell me you have good news."

"I do, Beckett. The DNA results from Yanis Martin's coffee cup just came back from the lab. It's a match to the DNA found on Phyllis Kravitts' collar and the upper part of her dress."

"That's just where it would be if Yanis strangled her," Kate noted.

"That's exactly what both Perlmutter and Carl from CSU said," Ryan confirmed. "We've got him, Beckett. It all fits with your scenario. Yanis killed Phyllis Kravitts and tried to frame Roger Clary for it. I guess he figured that swiping a pen with Roger's fingerprints on it would be enough. But there's more. The building on Madison, our team saw him going into, it's the headquarters for _Syndicat Français_ , run by one Henri Dubois. So far, we've found links between his operation and a couple of the deals Yanis Martin rammed through. And we're still looking."

"So, this Henri Dubois or his organization might be complicit in Yanis' murder of Phyllis Kravitts or even solicited it," Kate offered.

"That's what Javi and I were thinking. We're going to pull Yanis in again. It looks like he's been trying to hide out. He checked himself into one of those cash only no questions asked hotels, but we know exactly where he is. Want to be in on the kill, Beckett? You too, Castle if you're listening."

Castle and Kate bumped fists in celebration. "Just call us when you're ready, Ryan," Kate requested.

As Ian was doodling a version of Fleur in a wedding dress, he heard the whoops from the kitchen. He was pretty sure it meant that his father and Kate's plans to clear Roger Clary were going to be successful. He looked down at his drawing. There hadn't been much on his mind but his proposal to Fleur. Figuring that if he kept his promise to her, it would be years before a wedding would take place. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disappointed. He felt a little of both. But he decided to put away as much of his Dark Force money as he could. As soon as he had enough, his future wife would at least get an engagement ring.


	51. Chapter 51

Ian 2

Chapter 51

Kate shoved her cell phone back into her pocket and dropped the folder she had been about to take to the 12th with her, on the table. "That was Mrs. Mays. Her daughter has an emergency, and she needs to go be with her grandchildren. She can't take care of Amelia for us."

Fleur looked up from the kitchen counter where she and Ian had been putting together a snack. "I can take care of her Ms. Beckett, especially if Ian will help me. Amelia knows me, and I know where everything is. I did a lot of babysitting on Martinique since _Maman_ was so strict and wouldn't let me go out. I was available when most of the other girls my age weren't. You and Mr. Castle have been working so hard to clear my Papa. Watching Amelia is a tiny thing to do to say _merci_.

"You and Dad go ahead, Kate," Ian urged. "Amelia will be fine with Fleur and me. It's nice out. We could even take her to the park. We can push her stroller on the path she likes, the one with all the pebbles on it."

"Come on Kate," Rick encouraged. "There is much to be said of the enthusiasm and stamina of youth. If anyone can handle the baby blaster, it's Ian and Fleur."

"And I'll call you if we have any questions, I promise," Ian added.

* * *

There was no coffee this time for Yanis Martin. Shackled as he was to the table, he couldn't have held a cup. There would be no help from the attorneys that Henri Dubois and the _Syndicat Français_ employed. He couldn't afford to hire one of his own. His accounts had been frozen as possibly containing illegally obtained funds. He'd been told a public defender was on the way and was waiting for him to arrive, but he doubted it would do him much good. A pale young man whose blond hair was already beginning to thin stuck his head in the door. "Mr. Martin, I'm Erik Larsen. I've been appointed as your counsel. I am told that an assistant district attorney is due to arrive any moment, and Detectives Ryan and Esposito and their consultant Katherine Beckett will be joining her in talking to you. I've scanned your file, but is there anything you would like to discuss with me privately, first?"

"Only if you can tell me how you'll get me off," Yanis replied sullenly.

"Mr. Martin, I'm afraid you need to face reality," Larsen insisted. "In the little time I've had, I have absorbed the facts of your case. You are involved in suspicious financial dealings. You lied to the police about all the details concerning Phyllis Kravitts' murder. You tried to implicate someone else, and your DNA points straight at you as the perpetrator. Your best chance is to cooperate and tell the A.D.A. anything she wants to know so that we can make a plea agreement. All indications are that you took money to kill someone; that's special circumstances. The prosecutor will work hard and use whatever resources are necessary to make that case. It will be high profile, and the D.A.'s office doesn't like to be embarrassed. In another state, you could be looking at the death penalty. As it is, you're looking at life without parole. I don't have the time or the budget the prosecution does, and I can't see any viable defense I can offer in the face of the existing evidence."

"I thought you were supposed to be on my side," Yanis complained.

"Believe me, Mr. Martin, I will do the best I can for you. That is my duty as your attorney, but my caseload is so heavy it's putting cracks in my desk. I don't have time to sugarcoat anything. I call them as I see them, and as I see this case, your best chance is to cut a deal to flip on anyone else involved in this, and spill your guts."

Yanis' chains rattled as he banged his cuffed hands against the metal table. "Fine! I don't owe those _bâtards_ anything."

Castle took a chair a distance back from the table as Kate, Esposito, Ryan, and A.D.A. Toni Gonzalez faced Yanis and Larsen across the table. Kate pushed forward a photograph of 1027 Madison Avenue. "Mr. Martin, there is enough evidence for a jury to convict you for the murder of Phyllis Kravitts. The only question now is, are you willing to take the fall by yourself, or let whoever else is involved in this soften your landing. Who did you see in this building?"

Larsen put a hand on Yanis' shoulder. "Before my client tells you anything, we have a deal to discuss."

* * *

"I can't help feeling a little let down," Castle confided as he and Kate strolled arm and arm through the summer sunlight on their way back to the loft. "You hardly had to push him at all. Yanis coughed up everything he knew about the Syndicat Français as if a roach had crawled down his throat."

"I admit I would have enjoyed turning the screws again," Kate confided, "but the important thing is that Yanis' statement completely clears Roger Clary, even as it throws Henri Dubois and his confederates under the wheels of the bus. Roger should be secure at the bank and Ian doesn't have to lose his girlfriend. I wonder how he and Fleur are doing with Amelia."

"I wouldn't worry," Castle advised. "Ian said he'd call if there was a problem and I don't hear the sirens of any emergency vehicles. Catastrophe does not appear to be looming."

* * *

Ian pushed his sister's upscale stroller along the path at the nearby park, running the wheels over every bump he could find. Amelia rattled a set of brightly colored plastic keys while her eyes flicked from the tree limbs moving in the summer breeze to the pigeons scavenging for dropped food. "Your sister is a lot like you," Fleur noted.

"According to my Dad, I was never that loud," Ian protested.

Fleur leaned her head on his shoulder. "That isn't what I meant. You notice everything around you, the littlest detail. That's what makes you such an amazing artist. I can see your sister doing that too. Maybe she'll draw like you do, be a great writer like your papa or a detective like Ms. Beckett."

Ian shrugged. "Any of that would be great except I don't want my little sister getting in the way of any bullets. And I hope she has an easier time with reading than I do. We never talked about if we want kids. I think it would be cool to have a daughter as smart and beautiful as you are or a son I could play Jedi with, or maybe both."

"Ian, you know that if we have children, they would be…." Fleur ran a hand down the café latte colored skin of her arm. "That could be a problem for them, a problem for us."

"Maybe it will; maybe it won't," Ian responded. "I know Dad and Kate won't care. Neither will any of their friends. And I sure won't. They'll be our kids, even if they come out purple with yellow spots. Ooh, now that would make a great comic book – the polka dot mutants."

"Ian, I'm serious," Fleur insisted.

Ian stopped pushing the stroller and wrapped his arms around his fiancée. "So am I. Any kid we have together will be incredible."


	52. Chapter 52

Ian 2

Chapter 52

"What do you hear from the D.A.'s office?" Castle asked.

"They're tracking the financial dealings of _Syndicat Français_ , as well as trying to make a case that they paid Yanis Martin to kill Phyllis Kravitts and frame Roger Clary," Kate answered. "But with cases like that, they have to examine every decimal point. It will be a while before it goes to trial if it isn't pleaded out. The U.S. Attorney's office is in on it too because Federal crime may be involved. They're trying not to step on each other's toes. But as long as Roger is OK, I guess it can take as long as it takes."

"Aside from the fun of solving a murder together, Roger is why we got involved," Castle agreed. "I've finished up the Moses Shannon series, at least for now, and I'm starting to hope there will be another case for us to work on together. It will be pretty quiet around here soon with Ian splitting his time between SVA and his Dark Force work and Fleur in the International Affairs program at the New School."

"I don't know," Kate replied. "Jacqueline and Roger don't want Fleur to live in student housing, and since they're picking up the tab for her tuition, she doesn't have much choice but to stay under their roof. I suspect that she and Ian will cook up every possible reason for her to be with him here like they did during the summer."

"Do you think they're…?" Castle wondered.

"Come on Babe, I know I was, at their age - and younger. And I suspect you were too. There's no reason to expect them to abstain forever. Don't tell me you and Ian never had 'the talk.'"

"Of course, we did, as soon as his voice started to crack. And we both know he's a smart kid but in the heat of the moment…. Hell! If Mother had stopped to be careful, I wouldn't be here."

"And you and Kyra?"

"Ian was very much wanted. By then I had a couple of best-sellers and was working on another one. We had no idea Kyra was so ill. But Ian is just starting out in his career, and he and Fleur both have years of school ahead of them. I just don't want to see all that derailed. There's always the possibility they could break up, too."

"I don't see any signs of that," Kate said. "But I think you'll just have to trust that if they are having sex, they're being careful."

* * *

Ian perused his bank statement. Dark Force had begun a merchandising campaign for Baby Blaster, but it would be a while before he saw any money from it. Right now, he was just being paid straight up for the work he was doing for them, and with the schedule of classes he'd be having, that would likely go down not up. He could get Fleur a cheap ring. He was pretty sure she'd be happy with one from a Cracker Jacks box. But he wouldn't. He wanted something that would shout how much he loved her. There was time. They hadn't mentioned their engagement to anyone, not even Dad or Kate. Their marriage would be years away. Still, he wished their promise to each other could be out there for everyone to see. So far, they'd stopped just short of doing anything that could get them in trouble. There were times when he and Fleur were in the loft together, and his dad and Kate had taken Amelia out somewhere, that things had been pretty hot. There was also that rock near the lake in Central Park. They'd come pretty close to falling in the water. He'd sometimes thought about getting a room somewhere, but in New York, even the cheapest room cost what to him was a fortune. And even if he spent the money, once he and Fleur took that final step, things would change. He could tell Dad and Kate the truth, but Fleur would be uncomfortable around her mother and probably even around her father. Right now, the ring and other things would have to wait. He just hoped he could last that long.

* * *

Sheila Blaine checked out an ad for a Baby Blaster doll. Even though she found the idea of a screaming babydoll off-putting, she was proud that her grandson's creativity, however twisted, might be lucrative. She was anxious to show her friends just how successful Kyra's son could be at such a young age. She needed to throw an affair, but there should be some subtlety about it. She'd had book clubs - not with any of Rick's books - and product parties at her home before. She could have one for grandparents to preview what would be coming for Christmas: ornaments, decorations and of course toys. Ian could be her guest of honor. She'd tried to match him up with the granddaughters of her friends before, with no luck. But now the boy was at least a minor celebrity, and girls always went for that. She considered a date. The fall, even before Halloween, wasn't too early to talk about the holidays anymore. She'd started getting Christmas catalogs in August. She began to make a list of the hors-d'oeuvres she'd serve. Nettie had some delicious ones at her last soiree, but Sheila was sure she could top her. She could top anyone.

* * *

Ian stuffed three pizza rolls into his mouth and reached for another two before he had even stopped chewing. "Something wrong?" Castle asked.

Ian took a moment to swallow. "Grandma Blaine called. She wants to throw a party with me as the guest of honor."

"You have my sympathies," Rick said, "but you also have a litany of handy-dandy excuses. You have your work and school. Then there's always the ever-popular flu. We are getting into the season. Or how about food poisoning? She'd believe you got sick from one of the food trucks that serve starving college students. Or she'd be more than happy to blame me for something you ate here. She's delighted in blaming just about everything on me ever since I started dating your mother. I've adapted her rantings for dialogue for at least four of the more obnoxious characters in my books, and she hasn't caught on yet. She'd hate it if she knew I actually made use of her slings and arrows."

"No, I'm going to go," Ian decided. "She'll just reschedule and keep bugging me until I do. Her food is good if a little girly. And some of her friends are actually nice. Some of them even read your books. They just don't tell Grandma Blaine about it."

Castle nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I can imagine why not."

"And I'm going to bring Fleur," Ian decided. "I want her to see that her mom isn't the only one who thinks weird stuff. Maybe if she meets Grandma Blaine, she'll know that I can put up with her _Maman_.

Castle scrubbed a hand down his face. "Are you sure you really want to do that? Meeting Grandma Blaine is sort of like introducing someone to fish by throwing them into a tank of piranhas."

"If Grandma Blaine tries to bite Fleur, she'll be short one guest of honor," Ian declared.

Castle put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Good for you."


	53. Chapter 53

Ian 2

Chapter 53

Sheila Blaine stared at the person whose dark fingers were linked with Ian's. He'd called before he came, to tell her he was bringing a guest. She'd thought it was one of his geeky comic book friends or perhaps another art student. But this creature was obviously his girlfriend. Sheila would almost have preferred it if he'd showed up with a boyfriend. Gay was very in, at least regarding artists and writers. It would also have been a great excuse for why none of Sheila's match-ups had worked. She supposed the girl was pretty in the way those people were. Of course, she wasn't prejudiced herself, but given the political bent of some of her friends, Ian's choice of a companion had all the makings of a disaster. She forced a smile on to her frigid features and air-kissed her grandson.

"Ian, Darling," Sheila said, "I need to introduce you around. You are, after all, the reason for this party. I'm sure your - friend - won't mind waiting a few minutes." She looked at Fleur. "My dear, I'm afraid that I don't have any soul food, but there may be something on the buffet table that you will like."

" _Merci bien, Madame_ ," Fleur replied, " _les petites tartes_ look _délicieux_."

Ian would have loved to draw the slack-jawed expression on his grandmother's face at that moment, but he settled for explaining that Fleur was from Martinique and spoke both French and English fluently. "How nice, Dear," Sheila choked out.

Ian looked over his shoulder and winked at Fleur as he dutifully made the rounds with Sheila. When they reached the table where an unopened box containing a Baby Blaster doll was displayed, Sheila called for everyone to gather around. "This doll, which Fortune Magazine predicts will be one of the 15 hottest toys this Christmas, is based on a character created by my grandson, Ian. Though he has just started his classes to earn his degree at the prestigious School of the Visual Arts, Ian is already a successful professional in his field, and I am ever so proud of him."

The ladies who'd formed a cluster around the table applauded politely. Ian reached out to pick up the box. An opening in the packaging, labeled "Try me," allowed him to push the button that triggered the doll's soul-shattering howl. Several of the women covered their ears. "My dad says this is the toy you buy for the children of people you can't stand," Ian explained. "But it would be great to take to a soccer game; even better than an air horn. The toys that Dark Force is really pushing are the action figures. The kids who read the comics will like those and the Baby Blaster that Gladys Shoop carries is only…," Ian spread his thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart, "this big. So, she doesn't make as much noise. But I created Baby Blaster while I was in high school." Ian signaled Fleur to join him and put his arm around her. "Fleur helped me develop a new character that Dark Force, the comic book company I write for, likes a lot. It's based on a legend that Fleur learned on Martinique. Dark Force thinks they can turn it into a TV show, or at least put it on a streaming service." Ian pulled Fleur close. "But I couldn't have done it without Fleur."

Sheila coughed. "That's very sweet, Ian. Perhaps we should move onto the ornaments. There will be some very special ones this year. I have a display of angel figurines with hair and harps of real gold leaf that are truly exquisite."

* * *

Ian brushed the crumbs from one of Sheila's tarts off the front of his SVU sweatshirt as he and Fleur nibbled while Sheila's guests examined gilded Christmas bric-a-brac. "I can't wait to do a series of sketches based on this party. Just the expressions on my grandmother have given me ideas for a bunch of characters. And some of the other ladies are pretty interesting too. The bored looks on the girls Grandma invited to try to push on me will also come in handy. But are you all right? I know I warned you about what my grandmother is like. Even if we got back at her, when you came in with me she looked at you like you'd crawled out of a wall."

"Ian, I'm fine," Fleur assured him. "You stood with me, not with your grandmother, and that's all that matters." She gazed over to where Sheila was displaying pictures of outdoor nativity displays. "But I think your grandmother misses the point of the holiday, _n'est-ce pas_?"

Ian nodded. "She always has."

* * *

From behind Castle's chair, Kate wrapped her arms around his neck as he worked on his laptop. "New book?"

"New old book. "I'm starting the next Nikki Heat. I'm using Phyllis Kravitts' murder as a jumping off point, but the syndicate will be more sinister. I can weave in all sorts of international intrigues. Something going on, or did you just crave contact with my body?"

Kate pressed her cheek against his temple. "Both, actually. I just got a call from Sheila Blaine."

"Really? I've been under the impression that she disapproves of you almost as much as she disapproves of me."

"I'm pretty sure she does," Kate agreed. "But I got the feeling that she's desperate."

"Trying to hatch some plot to lure Ian away from the island menace?" Castle inquired.

"I think she's worried about more than that. One of her friends was in an accident on the way home from her party. The woman, Muffy Warner, is dead."

"That's too bad," Castle said, "but why would Sheila call you about it?"

"It was a one-car accident. There was no sign that the woman had been drinking, but she had upchucked all over the car. The police were wondering if something she had at Sheila's party made her sick enough to lose control. The health department is looking into it too."

"Ian and Fleur didn't get sick. Did any of the other guests?" Castle queried.

"Only one, Millie Franklin," Kate said. "She's in the hospital, but she's expected to be all right. She doesn't remember what she ate, but Sheila's party was the only thing she and the dead woman have in common. There weren't many leftovers."

"Ian was there." Castle pointed out. "There wouldn't have been. But obviously, nothing he ate was the culprit. Can the health department test whatever was left?"

"They can't," Kate answered. "You know how fastidious Sheila is."

Castle gazed heavenwards. "All too well."

"Anyway, anything that was still on the buffet table after the party either went down the garbage disposal or into the trash and had already been picked up by the time the health department wanted to look at it. The health department did take some of Sheila's raw ingredients, but almost everything had been disposed of, so if Sheila isn't responsible, it will be impossible to prove it. In any case, she claims that she couldn't have possibly served anything that would make anyone sick. She says she's being unjustly accused."

"Well, given how quick Sheila has always been with the disinfectant and how disapproving she is of any trace that a home actually has someone living in it," Castle considered, "much as I hate to admit it, I'm inclined to believe her. So, what's the next step?"

"Well if Sheila didn't cause Muffy's death, someone else might have," Kate proposed. "We can look at who'd want to hurt Muffy Warner."

Castle drew a deep breath. "I hope the list won't be as long as people who'd want to hurt Sheila Blaine."


	54. Chapter 54

Ian 2

Chapter 54

"Girl, you owe me," Lanie declared.

"You looked at Muffy Warner's autopsy report?" Kate asked.

"I did a lot more than look at it," Lanie retorted. "There were traces of E. coli in that mess that was found in her car. It was probably from the lettuce. It can draw the bacteria inside the leaves, and no amount of washing that Sheila Blaine did would have made a difference. But there hadn't been time for the toxin to form. It may not even have been a strain that forms toxins. I don't have the test that would make that determination, but most of it is pretty harmless. There were no signs of toxin attacking any of her organs, either. The bugs weren't what made her sick."

"So, what did?" Kate asked.

"Here's where I earned a weekend at a spa," Lanie replied. "Regular drug screens don't look for emetics, the stuff that makes you throw up, so I called in some favors to run more tests. I found copper sulfate. It's toxic in large doses, but in small ones, it just irritates the stomach enough to get everything out. It's used as an antidote to phosphorous poisoning."

"Where would someone get it?" Kate queried.

"There's your problem," Lanie answered. "If someone wanted it, they'd have no trouble getting it just about anywhere. Big box stores sell it to kill algae in swimming pools. You can buy it online. Chemical houses and industrial labs would have it too."

Kate blew frustrated air between her lips. "How long before someone who took it would be sick?"

"It would depend on the dose," Lanie said, "but it would be fast. Here's something that might help, Kate. Copper sulfate is blue. If someone took it by accident, it would have had to be in something blue."

"Thanks, Lanie. That will help. Pick your spa," Kate offered.

"You better buy the certificate now," Lanie instructed, "because the next weekend I have off is going to be spent at Boot-ee-licious."

"You've got it," Kate promised.

* * *

Sheila Blaine waved Kate toward a seat on a fashionable but not particularly comfortable couch. "Thank you for coming, Kate. Oh, and you too, Rick."

"Gracious as ever, Sheila," Castle commented.

"I would have thought one of you would be with Amelia - or have you finally gotten over your strange aversion to nannies, Rick?"

"Of course, you remember Ian's girlfriend, Fleur," Castle responded, working hard to suppress a smirk. "She doesn't have a class this morning. Her professor is at a global cooperation conference. So, she volunteered. Amelia is very fond of her."

Sheila's lips pursed as if she'd had a swallow of unsweetened lemonade. "How nice."

Kate bumped her knee against Castle's. "Sheila, we do have good news. None of the refreshments you served had any bacteria that could have made your guests sick."

"I was sure of that," Sheila declared.

"But something that was in them did," Kate continued, "something that someone might have added. What I need to ask you is about anything you served at the party that was blue. Ian told me that he and Fleur didn't have any, but he remembers a blue punch."

"That's right," Sheila confirmed. "Tiffany Punch. Not the cheap stuff you make with a horrid children's drink and that monstrous powdered lemonade, but the real thing with mixed berries. I remember I had to refill the bowl not long before the end of the party. That's the only blue thing I served. The party did have a Christmas theme, you know. More red, green, white and gold. I had to stay in line with that."

"Always the perfect hostess, Sheila," Castle remarked. "That does explain why there weren't more casualties. Whoever turned the punch into a poisonous potion did it just before no one but Muffy and Millie could drink any. So, the question is, who had the motive and who had the opportunity?"

"Anyone at the party had the opportunity," Sheila said. "People were back and forth to the buffet table constantly, especially toward the end of the party. And Muffy Warner has a reputation for always taking a drink with her when she leaves a party. It's very fast food of her. But for motive, I'd bet it was Beverley Greenberg."

"Why?" Kate asked.

"She was jealous of Muffy. Beverley is divorced and had been dating Carl Wembley. With the polar vortexes the past few years, he made a fortune in insulated socks. She had her eye on another trip down the aisle."

"Let me guess," Castle inserted. "Carl dropped Beverley for Muffy."

"As usual you're unimaginative, Rick," Sheila returned. "There is more to the story than that. Carl decided on an expansion, but one of his competitors undercut him and captured enough of the market that he would have defaulted on his loans and lost his business entirely without an infusion of cash. That's where Muffy came in. She had quite an estate from her late husband. She bailed Carl out in exchange for - well. I don't think I have to go into it."

"We get the picture," Kate said. "That does give us a place to start."

Sheila put a hand to her generous chest as she rose in dismissal. "Obviously, no fault was mine. But I do hope you and the police can get to the bottom of Muffy's death. Otherwise, it will taint any party I throw in the future."

"We'll let you know what we find out," Kate assured her.

"And Sheila," Castle added. "If your friends are afraid to come to your next party, just tell them BYOF; bring their own food."

Sheila's withering look followed Castle out the door.

* * *

Amelia gleefully banged on the tray of her high chair, leaving bright orange smears of the sweet potato, Fleur had zapped in the microwave and pureed. Amelia's bib, face, and hair were similarly decorated. "I think you have your brother's eye for color," Fleur told the infant as she daubed at Amelia's face with a wipe. "But I don't think your _maman_ and papa will be pleased if you wear your art."

"She could be practicing for Halloween," Castle called, striding through the door of the loft, "making herself up as a pumpkin. Don't worry about it. We're more than used to creative use of foodstuffs around here. I can take over with Amelia. Kate will be back in a little while. She had to stop off at the morgue and give something to her friend Lanie who works there as a medical examiner." He consulted his watch. "You can leave the cleanup to me. There's a demonstration on Fifth Avenue today. It may take you a while to get to The New School, and I don't want you to be late for your afternoon class."

" _Merci, Monsieur_ Castle."

"No, thank you. It's wonderful to have someone we can depend on to help with Amelia. And Ian appreciates how much his sister likes you."

"I like her too," Fleur said. "You have a lovely family. But you are right. I should go. My World Economics professor locks the door, so we can't get into the room if we are late. He claims that if we can't figure out the numbers involved in telling time, there is no way we'll be able to figure out the ones involved with his theories."

Castle shook his head. "Sounds like a heck of a guy. But I'm sure you'll ace his class. Thanks again."

Fleur smiled to herself as she made the short walk to the subway. Someday the Castle family would be her family too.


	55. Chapter 55

Ian 2

Chapter 55

Roy Montgomery smiled with satisfaction into the phone. "I had to pull a few strings, Kate, but everything is set with the 54th Precinct. Captain Lowery is willing to let you consult on the case as long as it doesn't tear any holes in his budget. You can interview guests from Sheila Blaine's party as long as you report to the primary on the case, Detective Sarah Lance."

"I can do that," Kate agreed.

* * *

Millie Franklin sipped delicately at a cup of weak tea. "It was a terrible experience. I understand that Sheila Blaine was not to blame, but I can't face the idea of attending another one of her parties anytime soon - if ever."

"I can understand that," Kate sympathized. "But I need to know, did you see anyone doing anything that looked suspicious at the buffet table, especially near the punch bowl?"

Millie cupped her chin in thought. "I wasn't really paying attention. There was an order form for a particularly darling little angel, and I wanted to grab a quick drink then get back and put my name on it before all the slots were filled. I did see the boy Ian and his lovely girlfriend near the table for a while, but not at the punch bowl. I think they were just trying to get away from Sheila. There were a couple of teenage girls there, but I didn't notice what they did. I'm sorry, I'm not being very helpful."

"That's all right," Kate said. "Did you by any chance see Beverley Greenberg?"

Millie shrugged. "I noticed her leave not long before I did, but that's all I can tell you."

That's fine," Kate reassured her. "Feel better, Mrs. Franklin."

* * *

Beverley Greenberg laughed until she was halted by a case of the hiccups. "Jealous of Muffy Warner over Carl Wembley? Carl was an idiot. He could have done fine with his business, but he had to be a big shot with his socks. I think he was overcompensating - if you know what I mean. As far as I'm concerned, when Muffy decided to play his rescuer, it was a relief to have him out of my life. She was welcome to him, and I'm pretty sure he cost her big time. If she wanted to throw her money around, she could have found someone better looking and more competent, but to each her own."

"I was told that you left before the party was over," Kate continued. "Why was that?"

"Because I was bored out of my mind," Beverley explained. "That doll based on Sheila's grandson's comic book was exquisitely obnoxious. I'm going to get several for the daughters of some families I know who deserve a delivery of coal to their stockings this year. And the look on Sheila's face when she saw his girlfriend was just priceless. It reminded me of Dana Carvey in the old Church Lady skits. That was worth showing up for. But the ornaments and the garlands Sheila was pushing gave a new meaning to the word garish. I didn't want any part of oohing and aahing over that kind of overpriced ostentatiousness. And I definitely wasn't going to order anything. So, I got the hell out of Dodge."

"Did you see anyone at the buffet table before you left?" Kate asked.

"I really didn't notice. I just wanted to get out of there," Beverley claimed.

Kate nodded and handed Beverley one of the cards she'd had newly printed. "Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, please call or text me."

* * *

Castle pulled Kate's bare feet into his lap and began to massage the soles with his thumbs. "Did wearing down all that shoe leather get you anywhere?"

"You know, I'm not sure," Kate responded. "I'm pretty sure Beverley Goldberg was telling the truth. And she absolutely had Sheila's number. But I'll have to do more checking on Carl Wembley. I might have gotten something useful out of Millie Franklin. Ian was talking about the girls that Sheila invited to match up with him. Millie might have seen them at the punch bowl. But I can't imagine what that would have had to do with either Muffy or Millie."

"Maybe it didn't," Castle suggested. "Maybe Muffy and Millie weren't targeted at all. What if it was a mean girl prank gone wrong? Ian's female classmates have not always been on their best behavior. He and I used to practice snappy comebacks to stupid questions, so he could get back at them. Some of the girls I went to school with did some pretty rotten things too."

"Yeah, I ran up against a few of those myself," Kate acknowledged. "And from what Lanie told me, no one at that party would have had any trouble getting copper sulfate, not even the girls. I'll have to get back with Sheila and find out more about those young ladies." Kate leaned back against a throw pillow and sighed. "But not tonight. I already made a report to Detective Lance, and that lasagna you have in the oven smells heavenly. I'm not about to ruin your lovely dinner."

"I cheated," Castle confessed. "Amelia and I took a stroll to Fratelli's. I'm just heating up their culinary artwork. But the good news is they had some tiramisu. And I picked up a nice Chianti too."

"Sounds wonderful," Kate said.

"And Muffy won't be any deader tomorrow," Castle added.

* * *

"Calm down," Georgette Mason urged Sharon Weems.

Sharon gulped down half a can of Diet Coke®. "I can't. I heard that the police are investigating Muffy Warner's death as a murder. We could go to jail, George."

"We're not even going to detention," Georgette assured her. "You got rid of the copper sulfate, right?"

"Yeah, I dumped it in my father's hot tub," Sharon confirmed. "He's used it before to get rid of that green scum that grows on top."

"And no one knows we bought it. We used cash," Georgette reminded her.

"But the store has cameras," Sharon protested.

"Only in the parking lot and where they think there are going to be shoplifters, like where they sell that crappy jewelry," George replied. "Who's going to lift pool cleaning supplies? No one knows we bought the stuff and no one knows we put it in that stupid punch that 'Sheila the Vain' always makes."

"But Muffy Warner is dead, and we killed her," Sharon insisted. "The police are going to keep looking for who did it."

"Well they're not going to find us," Georgette declared."

"I'm still scared," Sharon confessed. "I feel like I'm going to puke myself."

"So, you'll fit into your jeans better," Georgette replied. "My mother always says, 'Never too rich or too thin.' Barfing is easier than dieting. If Muffy Warner had been smart enough to pull over when she was about to spew instead of staying on the road, we might have done her a favor. Not our fault she was a dumb cunt. Look at it this way. We'll probably never have to go to a party at 'Sheila the Vain's' house again. If anything, that gets us out of a prison, it doesn't get us into one. Sooner or later the police will be tired of coming up empty and give up. Just forget it ever happened."

With a shaky hand, Sharon lifted her soda to her mouth again and took a deep swallow. "I'll try, but I don't think I can."


	56. Chapter 56

Ian 2

Chapter 56

Kate thumbed the speaker on her phone, and Sheila Blaine's voice abraded its way through the air of the loft. "Kate, I had expected to hear from you sooner. Did you get the evidence against Beverley Greenberg?"

"There is no evidence against Beverley Greenberg, Sheila," Kate replied, as Castle suppoertively squeezed her hand. "I checked on Carl Wembley. Even with Muffy's investment, he's still struggling. And I checked on Beverley too. For weeks she's been with a new guy, Bernie Sternblatt, the gluten-free king. He got into the specialty food business just at the beginning of the movement to abandon wheat, and he just bought his third mansion. If Beverley is trying to move up, she had no reason to be upset with Muffy and possibly reason to thank her for the opportunity to be with Sternblatt. But, there are other persons of interest I need to ask you about."

"Who?" Sheila demanded.

"The two teenage girls who were at the party."

The hiss of Sheila's offense scourged the phone. "Sharon Weems and Georgette Mason? They are granddaughters of two of my oldest friends. What could they possibly have to do with Muffy's death?"

"Maybe nothing," Kate replied hurriedly. "But they were seen near the punch bowl at the critical time. If they had nothing to do with poisoning the drink, they might have an idea who did."

"I suppose that's possible," Sheila allowed. "I can get you the numbers for their mothers and text them to you. They both have the standard weekend arrangement with their fathers. Get on it, Kate. I can't have this cloud hanging over the Blaine hospitality."

"No, of course, you can't, Sheila," Kate agreed.

Castle shook his head as Kate ended the call. "Typical Sheila Blaine, more concerned with the attendance at her next party than the fact that one of her friends is dead. Good thing those are genes that didn't get passed on."

"Ian did luck out there," Kate agreed. "But speaking of genes, isn't Martha due back in town?"

"She is," Castle confirmed. "She booked a short run in Pennsylvania after she finished up at the Guthrie, but now she's signed on for some new experimental production in The Village. She said she plays four different roles in four different acts. She believes it will stretch her as an actress. With her devotion to yoga, I don't think she needs much more stretching, but she's very excited about her new project. She did say she wants to see Amelia and Ian the minute she sets foot back in the city, or at least after she does some shopping."

Kate put her hand to her forehead. "God, I hope Martha's not planning on buying Amelia any more clothes. I just got over the glare from the outfits she brought her last time she was here."

"Well some good came from their eye watering glory," Castle pointed out. "Ian used them as inspiration for the costumes of a couple of his super villains."

"How is Ian doing juggling his work for Dark Force with his classes at SVA?" Kate asked. "I haven't had a chance to see much of him lately."

"Neither have I," Castle confided. "He's either at school or working, and when he has a spare moment, he spends it with Fleur. Can't say that I blame him for wanting to be with his girlfriend rather than hanging out with his old man, but I miss our geek out time together."

"Maybe you and I can geek out on something together," Kate suggested. "How about your new video game, Parsec Protector? Isn't it like an outer space version of Clue? From the trailer I saw, it seems to have something for both of us."

"It does indeed," Castle agreed. "And Amelia is fascinated when she watches me play it. I think she likes the sound effects and the starbursts when players conquer a level. When she wakes up, we can put her in her new baby seat near us while we play." He held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Kate laced her fingers with his. "We shall."

* * *

Ian put the document Mack Richards had emailed to him, through his speech synthesizer, and he and Fleur listened together. Richards' message contained a treatment for the animated series based on their heroic dorlis, Riton. The dorlis foiled a robbery of a toy store, first by invisibly striking at the robbers and then by turning into a huge furry dog to guard them until the police could arrive. "What do you think?" Ian asked Fleur

"I like the dog," Fleur decided. "If Riton uses that form a lot, it could become an inspiration for a toy for children to cuddle, or just pretend is their guardian at night if they're scared of the dark. I always wanted a dog like that when I was growing up, but Papa is allergic, and it is very hot on Martinique for an animal with that much fur."

"When we get married we could have a dog," Ian suggested. "In the summer when it's hot we could keep it inside or if we have a house, build it a doghouse in the yard. I like my dad's loft, but it would be nice to have a house. Did you have one on Martinique?"

"We had an apartment when I was growing up," Fleur explained. "But when Papa got promoted, we had a little house. It had a private garden with lots of flowers. _Maman_ loves flowers. That's why she named me Fleur. On Martinique, she was outside tending them all the time. We have some plants in our apartment here in New York, but I think she misses the garden."

Ian leaned back thoughtfully. "You don't need to live in a house to have a garden in New York City. There are community gardens. Most people use them to raise vegetables, but I had a field trip once to one where people were raising flowers. They took them to shut-ins and to hospitals. Dad and I went back and volunteered to help a couple of times. They said I had a black thumb and stopped letting me near anything growing, but Dad and I could still deliver bouquets. It made the people we took them to very happy. Do you think your mother would like to work in a flower garden like that?"

Fleur ran her fingers through her hair. "I think she might.

* * *

A ding sounded from Kate's phone just as she and Rick were finishing their last game of Parsec Protector, which brought the tally of their wins to a tie. She picked up her cell, regarding the message on the screen. "It's a text from Sheila."

"Lucky, you," Castle commented.

"Maybe lucky for the case," Kate replied. "She sent all the contact information for Vivian Weems and Martina Mason. Those are the mothers of our teenage suspects. I'm going to call them and arrange to talk to the girls. I want to question them separately, so they can't signal each other. They're both high schoolers, so late afternoon or evening would be the time to do it. Willing to hold the fort again?"

"I will fight the battle of flung food and pernicious poop, while my brave and beautiful wife pursues the fight for justice."

Kate reached up, her hands framing his face to guide his lips to hers. "I appreciate your heroic efforts on the home front."

Castle pulled her toward him to return the kiss. "You've been putting up with my former mother-in-law, a deed truly deserving of a medal or a commendation or two. Assuring domestic tranquility is the least I can do."


	57. Chapter 57

Ian 2

Chapter 57

Georgette Mason sat with her legs thrown over the side of an overstuffed chair in her mother's living room. She confidently regarded Kate. "Yeah, I was at the party. My grandma said I had to go if I wanted a decent check for my birthday this year. Mrs. Blaine was supposed to hook me or Sharon up with her grandson, but he was already hooked up with this black girl. I thought the old lady was going to shit her pants. So, Sharon and I just hung around until we could get out of there."

"And what did you do while you were hanging around?" Kate asked.

"Looked at a lot of Christmas crap Mrs. Blaine was trying to sell, ate what wasn't too gross. Sharon and I were talking about a new routine we wanted to try for the flag team. "

"And while you were doing that, did you happen to notice who might have been near the punch bowl?" Kate inquired, keeping her voice casual.

"Everyone was near the punch bowl sooner or later," Georgette claimed. "Except for some weird tea, there wasn't much else to drink. You'd think Mrs. Blaine coulda at least put out some Diet Coke® or something, but she seems to think that stupid blue punch she makes is a big deal. She's served it whenever my grandmother made me go over there. Anyone who came to her parties would have expected it."

"I see," Kate responded. "Well, can you think of anyone in particular who didn't like Mrs. Warner or Mrs. Franklin?"

"I wouldn't know," Georgette insisted. "Nothing anyone said at the party, except maybe for the boy with the doll, was interesting enough to pay attention to. Sharon and I just wanted out."

"I get that," Kate said, handing her a card. "But if you do remember anything, text me, OK?"

"Yeah, sure," Georgette agreed.

* * *

Sharon Weems shifted nervously on the brocade upholstered chair at her mother's dining room table. George had sent her a text saying that being questioned was no big deal and just to chill, but she couldn't. The woman who'd taken a seat at the head of the table was smiling and seemed nice enough, but Sharon could feel her eyes digging into her skull. Kate Beckett knew something, Sharon could feel it. Under the table, she wiped her moist palms against her pants.

"So, you and Georgette Mason were both at the party for a hook-up with Ian Castle, but the two of you are friends. Wasn't that awkward?" Kate inquired.

Sharon was glad Kate hadn't mentioned the punch. "Not really. George and I have known each other since fifth grade. Our grandmothers have been friends forever. But George and I have never been interested in the same boy. She's more into jocks than I am. If one of us had been interested in Ian, the other one wouldn't have been. But it didn't matter, he already had a girlfriend, and he brought her with him. I don't think Mrs. Blaine knew he was going to do that. She had that kind of smile people get when they're trying to pretend they like someone when they don't. But anyway, George and I were already there and there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing we could do either, except enjoy the show when the doll blasted everyone. I thought Mrs. Blaine was going to drop."

"Yeah, I imagine that would have been a shock to her and the other ladies. Did you see any of them trying to calm down by eating something or having some punch?" Kate inquired, noting with satisfaction that the color immediately drained from Sharon's face.

Sharon swallowed, trying to remember what she and George had decided they would say. "Almost everyone had some punch. Mrs. Blaine had to refill the bowl."

"And there it is," Kate thought to herself. "How about after she refilled it?" Kate queried.

Sharon scrubbed her palms against her pants again. "I don't know. I mean I don't remember. George and I were busy talking."

"How about Mrs. Warner and Mrs. Franklin?" Kate persisted.

Sharon looked down, desperately wishing that George was there. "I'm sorry Ms. Beckett, I can't remember."

* * *

"So, you think the girls were lying?" Castle asked, filling Kate's goblet with Zinfandel.

"I'm sure of it," Kate remarked. "Sharon Weems is the key. I was half expecting her to break down and confess. Georgette Mason is clearly the dominant member of the pair. If I get anything else on those two, I'm sure Sharon will crack. I asked Detective Lance to get a warrant to check the GPS on their phones. That may give me something to work with. But until I have that information, there's not much I can do."

"Perfect timing then," Castle observed. "Mother should be here any minute. That's why I chilled a second bottle of wine. That is probably her now," he guessed when there was a rhythmic rap at the door.

Martha swept in as soon as Castle opened the door, dropped two shopping bags and embraced her son and then Kate. Ian came out of his studio to join them, and Martha threw her arms around him as well, before stepping back to let her eyes travel the length of him. "I'd swear you've grown at least an inch since I've been gone. Richard, I think he's taller than you are now, just not as big around the middle."

"Thank you so much for noticing, Mother," Castle returned dryly.

"Where is my granddaughter?" Martha continued unabashed. "When I saw the last picture you sent she'd grown so much I hardly recognized her. I bought her some new things, of course, to keep up."

Kate groaned inwardly. "That was very thoughtful, Martha. Amelia should just be waking up from her nap." The rattling of crib bars came through the speaker of the baby monitor. "Sounds like she's up now."

After Ian returned to his studio, Martha stood back as Kate and Rick worked smoothly together to change and redress their daughter, then enthusiastically picked up the active infant. Amelia babbled loudly. "I see that she hasn't lost her excellent projection," Martha noted. "In fact, I think she may be ready for her first role."

Castle's brow furrowed. "Mother, what are you talking about?"

"Well, there's a part for a baby in the first act," Martha explained. "Amelia would play the spirit of renewal. We were going to use a doll."

"Which is still an excellent idea. I'm sure Ian could get the props department a good deal on a Baby Blaster," Castle suggested.

"Oh, heavens no!" Martha exclaimed. "No one would stay for the second act. And props already has one of those incredibly expensive baby simulations. No, what I'm proposing is Amelia could be cast for a performance or two during previews. It would give us a chance to see whether she has the true Rodgers feel for the theater."

"Mother, assuming she'd ever be even vaguely interested in acting, I think there's plenty of time for that when she's old enough to walk, or better yet read a contract. My daughter is not a prop," Castle proclaimed.

"Richard, as usual, you are blowing everything out of proportion. One night," Martha entreated. "five minutes onstage and front row seats for you, Kate, Ian and that lovely girlfriend he sent me a picture of, if he wants to bring her."

"What happens if Amelia starts howling?" Castle asked.

"Renewal rarely comes quietly, Richard. It will just become part of the show," Martha returned.

"Babe, it would be a chance for Ian to take Fleur out someplace nice without worrying about an objection from Jacqueline," Kate interjected. "They both deserve a special night, considering what they went through with Sheila Blaine."

"That's true," Castle considered. "Fine, if Ian can bring Fleur, Amelia can have her five minutes of fame. But if it's any longer than that, or she's uncomfortable, I'm going to come up onstage myself and cancel the renewal."


	58. Chapter 58

Ian 2

Chapter 58

Castle watched the paper being spit from his network printer. "Kate, is that the GPS info for Sharon and Georgette?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's a lot of data to comb through," he noted. "Want some help?"

"I'd love it," Kate agreed. "If I take George, can you take Sharon?"

"We might want to do them side by side," Castle suggested. "If they were in on the punch bowl poisoning together, they may also have made the fateful purchase together."

Kate picked up the stack of printouts. "You're right, Babe. Let's spread out on the table. I could use another cup of coffee anyway. You want some?"

"No, thanks. The Heat-Rook scene I was just writing has me more than awake enough."

Kate reached for a handful of his butt as they strolled toward the kitchen. "Maybe we can go over that together, later."

"An excellent motivation to make it through the day," Castle decided.

* * *

"How about this?" Castle offered after they'd flipped through pages together for an hour. "The girls spent a lot of time at school and various shopping districts in town, but this was their first foray to a big box store. Didn't Lanie tell you they could get copper sulfate at one of those?"

"She did," Kate confirmed.

"Want to take Amelia on a field trip?" Castle offered. "She'd love the expedition. She can sit up fine in a cart now, we wouldn't have to lug a stroller, and all the colors and shapes and people in a place like that could be a stimulating experience for her. Ian used to love looking at everything when I took him shopping as a baby. Sometimes I had to return things that mysteriously made their way into the cart, but that can be fun too."

"Sounds like a good idea. If we do spot some copper sulfate, I'll ask Detective Lance to request the surveillance footage from the day the girls were there. She could ask for any records of purchases of copper sulfate too. Even if the girls didn't use a credit card, one of the employees might remember them."

"If said employee is a young man, remembering two cute girls would not be beyond the realm of possibility," Castle added.

* * *

Castle picked a shopping cart with a wheel that wobbled just enough for Amelia to enjoy the rhythm of the ride. He and Kate went up and down the aisles, taking the opportunity to seize on good deals on diapers and cleaning supplies. The baby food was a good price, but Castle was determined to stick to upscale brands, so he left it behind. He eyed the Halloween costumes that were just beginning to appear but decided they were too unimaginative for his taste. They finally made it to the garden center, where a boy Castle took for early college age was taking pool products from shelves and loading them onto a pallet that could be picked up by a nearby electric forklift. Castle noted a few blue crystals on the floor. Rick caught the attention of the young man and pointed. "Are those copper sulfate?"

"Yeah. A little bit of it spilled when I was getting it ready to go into storage. We're changing over to put all the Halloween decorations and stuff out here. I can sweep it up."

"Relax, Dean," Castle urged, checking the name on the boy's badge. "I'm not going to get you written up by your boss; I just wanted to know if it was sold here."

"We didn't sell a lot of it. My manager was talking about not giving it that much shelf space next year, but that's up to corporate."

"Would you remember who bought any?" Castle asked.

"Coupla guys. I think they had a pool service. They had a logo that looked like water splashing, on their shirts." Dean's mouth curved upward in remembrance. "And there were a couple of girls. Pretty, although one of them looked kinda nervous. I was wondering what they were going to do with it. They didn't look like the type to be out killing algae."

Kate brought up a picture of Sharon on her phone. "Was this the nervous one?"

Dean stared at the screen. "I think so. She covered her face with her hand a lot."

Kate changed the image to one of Georgette. "Was this the other one?"

Dean nodded. "That was her. What's all this about? Are you cops or something? Cops don't usually walk around with babies."

"Consultants for the N.Y.P.D.," Kate replied.

"We multitask," Castle added.

Kate offered Dean her most engaging smile. "Thank you. You've been very helpful."

Dean grinned at her. "Yeah, sure. Anytime."

* * *

Detective Lance hunched over her computer screen, impatiently brushing blond hair from her face. Kate Beckett's report was pretty damning for Sharon Weems and Georgette Mason. The video for the day the girls had bought the copper sulfate had been recorded over, but even without it, the dots were all connected. The girls were responsible for Muffy Warner's death. A confession would seal the deal. They were minors, which would make any official questioning of them more complicated, but she could make it happen. Seeing Beckett's work and knowing her reputation, Lance thought it would be a good idea for the consultant to be in on the interrogation. The detective picked up her phone.

* * *

Sharon had never been so scared in her life. It would be easier if George were there, but she wasn't. Sharon's mom was, and a lawyer, but that wasn't much comfort. Even if she just sat there and said nothing, the way the lawyer told her to, she knew she and George had killed someone. That was never going away, whether she ended up in jail or not. God knew what she had done. She was already being punished for it. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't even start to study. She just saw it over and over in her head, mixing the blue crystals into Sheila Blaine's fancy bowl. She pictured the crunching metal as Muffy Warner's car crashed. Those visions weren't vanishing, no matter what George said. They were just getting stronger - like they would burst out of her head.

Kate had arrived at the 54th prepared to bring the whip down hard, but when she saw Sharon's face and the way she twisted the hem of her blouse with fingers whose nails had been bitten to the quick, she decided to take another tack. "Sharon," she said softly.

"My client isn't saying anything," the attorney interjected.

"She can listen." Kate returned, not raising her voice. "Sharon. I know you're hurting. You never meant any harm. You just wanted to mess things up a little for Mrs. Blaine. I know her, Sharon. I know how she can be. You and Georgette just wanted to play a little joke. You didn't think anyone would ever get hurt. But they did Sharon, and so did you. This is burning out your insides more than a spiked punch ever could. It won't go away. Killing someone never does. But you can still help yourself. Tell us what you and Georgette did. Whatever happens will be better than living in the hell you're in now."

Sharon leaned over the table, pushing back the hand her mother tried to put on her arm. Her choked words barely made it out of her mouth, but were loud enough to be caught by the microphone. "We did it. George and I did it. We put the copper sulfate in the punch."


	59. Chapter 59

Ian 2

Chapter 59

"You think I should wear a tie?" Castle wondered. "experimental theaters aren't exactly formal dress, but it is our daughter's stage debut."

"Considering how much Amelia loves to pull on anything she can get her fingers around, if you want to get through the evening, you might be better off without one," Kate replied. "You look terrific with that navy jacket over that high necked black shirt of yours anyway. Brings out your eyes."

Castle quirked an eyebrow. "Feeling a little frisky, are we?"

"Yeah. Lance called a few minutes ago to give me the disposition of the Muffy Warner murder. Sharon was allowed to plead to manslaughter. The D.A. believed that she didn't mean to hurt anyone seriously. She'll be at Juvie until she turns 18 then serve out the rest of her sentence in the segregated population where she'll be safer. She should get out while she still has time to make something decent of her life."

"How about Georgette?"

"She showed a total lack of remorse. The best the D.A. was willing to do for her was second degree. She'll start in Juvie too, but she's got at least 15 years coming, maybe a lot more."

Castle pulled the shirt Kate had suggested out of his closet. "I feel sorry for the other inmates."

"Yeah," Kate agreed. "Me too."

* * *

Martha was beginning to regret suggesting that Amelia begin her acting career that evening. Even though Richard and Katherine were backstage to feed, comfort and change her, her complaints periodically penetrated to the house seats. Martha hoped that Amelia might decide to seek some time in dreamland, but it was close to curtain, and the baby was still awake. Martha held her as the play began. Two featured actors strode toward their marks to give their opening lines. In the wings, Martha joggled the restless Amelia, ready to make her entrance. As she stepped onstage, she felt the baby relax in her arms even as the bright eyes scanned everything around her.

"What more perfect incarnation for the spirit of renewal than an infant full of potential and promise?" one of the actors proclaimed.

"Noo!" Amelia cooed loudly.

"From the mouths of babes," Martha adlibbed. "Truly, everything is new."

The actors completed the rest of their lines for the short scene with an occasional babbling echo from Amelia, to the amused laughter and a ripple of applause from the audience. Martha carried the joyful baby offstage and delivered her into Castle's arms. "I knew it; she's a natural. Couldn't wait to deliver a line," Martha declared. "Look how happy she is now. A true child of the theater."

Rick looked at Kate. "Nevertheless, don't you think it would be wise to take her home now? Ian and Fleur can stay to enjoy the rest of the play. We can always come back and view Mother in her triumphant glory on opening night."

"I think so," Kate agreed. "There's no reason to risk exposing the audience to a Baby Blaster demonstration, and Ian doesn't need us tagging along on his night out."

Kate gathered up the baby accouterments, and Rick kissed Martha on the cheek. "Break a leg, Mother."

* * *

After the final curtain call, Ian and Fleur left the theater hand in hand. "Your grandmother was a hit," Fleur offered. "So was your sister."

"I guess they were," Ian agreed. "Where would you like to go now? I'd thought we'd be having an after-theater supper with my father, Kate and my grandmother, but it looks like we're on our own."

"Could we just walk for a while?" Fleur asked. "Unless you're hungry."

"I can wait," Ian said. "Oh, but that crêpe place you like is only 20 blocks from here. That's about a mile."

Fleur leaned her head against his shoulder. "That sounds perfect."

* * *

"It's going to be Halloween soon," Ian remarked as he stuck his fork in a tender chunk of meat spilling out of the savory filling of his entrée. "That's a big deal in my family, especially with my dad. I was thinking about dressing up as Riton. You could be Addy, his secret friend that I've been working on. The show won't be starting for another year, but we'd still be characters from the comic. Usually, I give out candy to the little kids before Dad and Kate have a party. You could do it with me, and then we could be at the party together. Dad will invite your parents too if I ask him."

Fleur sampled a cherry topping her cheese filled pancake. "I think _Maman_ might like that. She's been a lot happier since she's been working in the garden. There aren't that many flowers left, but she's been helping with the pumpkins that are growing in another plot. Some of the other volunteers she works with are excited about Halloween. We didn't have costume stores on Martinique like you have here. People make their own. _Maman_ made some lovely ones for me when I was little, mostly flowers. She would make the petals out of satin or velvet. They were beautiful. I could ask her to help me make an Addy costume. It's something we could do together."

"Yeah, Dad still helps me with costumes sometimes too. He's pretty good at figuring out how to use wire and stuff to make the shapes work out right. You and I will be pretty busy. Castles always give out full sized candy bars, not the little ones. The kids in the neighborhood all know it, so they come. Sometimes they come more than once or bring their friends from other neighborhoods. I think Dad is already stocked up. He usually orders the candy by the case. Kate takes what's left to the precinct for the cops there. It's better than what's in the vending machines."

"Your family is most generous," Fleur said.

Ian shrugged. "Dad and Kate have both been through some pretty rough times. I think helping other people just makes them feel good. It makes me feel good too."

" _Moi aussi_ ," Fleur agreed. "And I think it has helped _Maman_."

* * *

Castle leaned over Amelia's crib, shoulder to shoulder with Kate. "She's sleeping like - a baby," he whispered, leading Kate out of the nursery and into their bedroom. Ian's out with Fleur, and we are left entirely to our own devices. Whatever shall we do?"

"That depends. You looked pretty engrossed in the new chapter you wrote this morning. Any new inventions for Rook and Heat?"

Castle stroked a fingertip over the soft skin that showed above the neckline of Kate's gently draped dress. "Come to think of it; I did insert a few interesting moves."

Kate undid the top button on his shirt. "You know I've always been fascinated by your work. Care to give me a private reading?"

Castle palmed the smooth fabric covering the curve of her hip. "I could do better than that. I could give you a demonstration. But you're wearing too many clothes."

Kate fingered another button open. "I suspect you are too."

Castle looked down. "So, I am. But that is a situation that can be quickly remedied." He waved toward the bed. "Care to join me in a re-enactment?"

Wrapping her fingers around his belt, Kate pulled him down with her to the satiny duvet. "I can't wait."

"Then," Castle declared, "let the show begin!"


	60. Chapter 60

Ian 2

Chapter 60

Castle pulled at his clerical collar. He was beginning to regret dressing up as the evil priest in Dark Force's vampire series, but the stake pounding stories were still the crown jewel of the catalog of Ian's employer, and Rick was determined to lend his support. Ian's Ritan was a little awkward but endearing, and Fleur's Addy was gorgeous. Several times Rick watched her greeting the trick or treaters. She'd given multiple candy bars to the children who'd begged them for sisters and brothers who were sick and couldn't participate in the fun. It was the oldest scam in the book. He'd pulled it as his younger self in the days when Martha was barely making the rent on their tiny New York apartment. Still, he much preferred Fleur's compassion to the cynicism many New York teens might have shown. In that way, she and Ian were much alike. They both saw the world as a place they could make better, or at least more fun, not as a haven for the privileged.

The guests were arriving in a steady stream. Jacqueline and Roger were in a corner of the great room, with Roger engaged in a debate with Castle's business manager on the ins and outs of an arcane investment strategy. Castle barely understood a word of what he'd caught of the discussion, but he was sure he would somehow reap the benefits of whatever conclusion they reached.

Amelia, as befitted her recent debut, was dressed as a shining star in an outfit that had been run up by the costume mistress of Martha's play. The baby was being handed back and forth between Lanie and Evelyn Montgomery, both of whose voices had risen an octave as they fussed and cooed. Ian and Fleur were manning the punch bowl, in unnecessary guard duty against any unauthorized additions. It was unlikely that any guest would consider even the smallest misdemeanor, other than a badly thought out costume; the room was full of cops. Not only were Ryan, Esposito, Montgomery and half the bullpen from the 12th in attendance, but Sarah Lance and several of the detectives who'd worked on the copper sulfate caper had come. In the future, on the basis of her success on that case, Kate would be called in by the 54th to consult on unusual body drops. It was even possible that she'd be in demand by the homicide squads from other precincts.

The additional work Kate would be picking up was fine with Castle. She was at her most vital when she was unraveling a mystery, as was he. As a private citizen, she could also turn down any assignment she didn't wish to accept. That meant that she'd still have the mothering time she wanted with Amelia. All in all, it would be a good setup at least for Amelia's early years. He had a feeling that Kate would still crave the action of stalking a killer, weapon in hand, even if it scared the hell out of him that she would do it. Once Amelia was in school, Kate could return to the force if she really wanted to. Castle just hoped she'd stay with the safer course.

A karaoke console had been set up at one end of the room. Castle grabbed a microphone and called for attention. "It is time for some truly scary song stylings. I believe Detective Esposito is prepared to lead things off."

In full Dracula regalia, except for the fangs which he was afraid would interfere with his vocal clarity, Esposito took the mic from Castle and began an attempt to imitate Bobby "Boris" Pickett in a rendition of the "Monster Mash."

"The man's got moves, but his Transylvanian accent could use work," Castle whispered to Kate.

Roy Montgomery came up next, giving an impressive performance of "Black Magic Woman," while locking eyes with Evelyn.

Ryan followed his boss, belting out Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising." Sarah Lance teamed up with another detective from the 54th for "The Monster."

Finally, Castle took the microphone back. "My ex-mother-in-law has always accused me of being Riff Raff, he half-joked. Tonight, I will do my best. Everyone line up for "The Time Warp!" Castle was glad to see that even Jacqueline and Roger Clary joined in the action for the raucous dance from "The Rocky Horror Show." Having taken Amelia, Martha passed on the dancing, but sang along, moving in rhythm, to the baby's delight.

The evening ended with the fortification the guests against the autumn chill with hot cider, soft or hard, and warm pumpkin pastries. When the last guest and member of the serving staff had departed, and Amelia had been settled in her crib, Kate and Rick dropped heavily to the couch together. Kate raked back her hair, her fingertips picking up a sheen from the silver streak of spray-on color she'd applied to her dark strands. "It was a good party, Babe. I think everyone had fun."

"One of the best ever," Castle agreed. "The karaoke was definitely the way to go. Ryan went a little flat here and there, but Sarah Lance was giving Rihanna a run for her money. The woman has pipes on her. Next time Ryan and Espo go for the trophy at the N.Y.P.D. charity show, she may knock them off the podium. I guess you never know what talents will turn up in a police station." He stroked her cheek. "Look what I found."

"Technically, I found you," Kate reminded him.

"We found each other," Castle murmured, pulling her close. "That's what matters."

* * *

Ian lay with one arm propping up his head and with the forearm of the other over his eyes, in a position much like his father's when something was weighing on his mind. The teen would have liked to have taken Fleur home himself, it would have given them some alone time, but she'd left with her parents. There was no doubt that Jacqueline had softened up a lot. She'd brought pumpkins to the party, and she'd even been smiling. But other than that, not much had changed. He was still years away from the day when Fleur could become his wife, and they still hadn't even told anyone they were engaged. That part of it he could change.

Pushing up from his bed, he went to his laptop and opened his banking app. He still had a long way to go before he'd have enough money to buy Fleur the kind of ring he wanted her to have. But he was getting closer. He brought up the site that predicted toy sales. At Halloween, the stores had already put in their orders for Christmas. Tomorrow many of the shelves in toy departments would be stocked, so there was some basis for the figures that had only been speculation a couple of months back. Baby Blaster wasn't at the top of the list. It wasn't even in the top 10, but it was in the top 25. That wasn't bad. If the prediction was even close, his slice of the licensing fees would be pretty good. It would be a while before he got it, but it would still be sometime next year. That was something to look forward to. Once the ring was on Fleur's finger, everyone would know that he was serious - and able to take care of a wife. Not that he didn't expect Fleur to have a career of her own. New York was a hot spot for all sorts of international negotiations and commerce. Ian didn't understand most of it, but Fleur already had a pretty good handle on a lot of things Ian would never have realized existed. Between that and her language skills, she could, in her own way, turn out to be as formidable as Kate.


	61. Chapter 61

Ian 2

Chapter 61

Rick and Kate laid out the good china for their Thanksgiving feast. Both Jim Beckett and Martha would be coming. Jacqueline and Roger Clary would be dining with Roger's associates from the bank, but Fleur would be at Ian's side. In consideration of her lingering status as a social pariah, Sheila Blaine had been invited but to Rick's relief had declined. Since no one in the family was much of a football fan, and Fleur preferred the European version, accommodating games on television would not be a consideration for the day's activities. Castle had put a large turkey in the oven early in the morning. He was looking forward to a table sagging under the weight of the bird and a prodigious number of side dishes. The rest of the afternoon could be filled with conversation, games, and possibly a nap with Kate if the guests departed soon enough.

As everyone took their seats for the festive meal, Jim Beckett volunteered to lead the blessings, soliciting what everyone was thankful for. Rick and Kate were understandably grateful for a healthy baby and the gathering of family. Martha was grateful for her play. Fleur was grateful that her father had been cleared and that she could stay in the United States to be with Ian. Ian was grateful to have her with him, for his work for Dark Force, and for what he was learning at SVA. Jim Beckett proclaimed that he was grateful that it was a year in which he had been able to do some good in the world and that the Yankees had made it to the playoffs. The patriarch concluded with the Serenity Prayer before Castle brandished his carving knife and sharpening steel.

Martha departed not long after dinner for a gathering with friends from the theater. Jim Beckett decided to catch a cab after almost dozing off several times during a lively game of Pictionary in which Ian understandably excelled.

The start of Black Friday had begun that afternoon, and Ian and Fleur lounged on pillows in front of the big screen television to check out what Castle had described as the "invasion of the booty snatchers." Newscaster Laurie Langmore was doing a standup in front of The Toy Barn as eager parents and grandparents rushed through the doors. "There is always a most wanted toy of the season," she reported, "but the object of the most attention this year is a surprise, a doll called The Baby Blaster, based on a comic book from Dark Force Comics." Laura snagged a shopper carrying two large bags. "Ma'am, could you tell me if you were successful in buying a Baby Blaster?"

The woman snorted. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't go near that abomination. It would be like buying my granddaughter an air raid siren. But those people in there are crazy. They're practically climbing over each other to grab one of those obnoxious things. It's a wonder no one is being trampled. But people give strange gifts. I never understood pet rocks, mood rings or Tickle Me Elmo dolls. I'm getting everyone Chia Pets. At least they're quiet."

"Yes, they are," Laurie agreed, barely avoiding rolling her eyes. She turned to the camera. "And there you have it, the variety of tastes of Black Friday shoppers."

Ian stared dumbfounded at the screen. "I think I'm going to be rich."

"If you are, you deserve it," Fleur declared. "That doll wouldn't exist without your talent and imagination."

Ian nodded slowly. "Maybe. But I think I should really thank my sister."

"You can do that when she wakes up from her nap," Fleur pointed out. "I think the turkey made her sleepy like it did Mr. Beckett. But we could celebrate together. It's not that cold outside. We could take a walk to the park and find a way to keep each other warm in that place we like in the bushes."

A grin crept over Ian's face. "Yes, we could."

* * *

Jody Fentress had a good dinner at the shelter, but the tables had been crowded, and even though he could have stayed there and been warm, he couldn't stand being around that many people. The park was more to his liking, especially that afternoon. Almost everyone in the city was either chowing down, glued to a TV screen, mindlessly raiding store shelves or having it out with their relatives. The park was quiet and empty. Well almost empty. He'd seen a couple of teenagers stroll through with their arms around each other. He was pretty sure they were headed to a popular make-out spot. They wouldn't be bothering him.

Jody had a favorite spot of his own. There was a transformer in a corner of the park, away from anything else. A fence surrounded it, but he could still get close enough to appreciate the heat it put out. He could make himself a nest of evergreen branches, the soft kind, on the ground nearby and write a new poem there. He might even catch a few winks, especially if there were newspapers in the recycling bin he could use for insulation. The bins were never dumped on holidays, and with any luck, they'd be full of the circulars hawking bargains.

Jody opened a bin at the edge of an area of empty benches. It was just as he thought. There was even more paper than he'd get from the Sunday Times. He began to dig through the stack, searching for the shiny sheets that would provide the best wind barrier. At first, he thought some idiot had thrown something with ketchup or barbecue sauce in with the paper. When he realized the truth, unholy hell escaped from his mouth.

Ian pulled his lips back from Fleur's. "Do you hear that?"

"It sounds like someone screaming," Fleur said. "We should call 911."

Ian got to his feet. "I want to check out what's going on first, so I'll know what to tell the dispatcher. It could just be some jerk watching a game on his phone and seeing a call go the wrong way. I've heard kids from school yell their heads off about stupid stuff like that. But you should stay here, just in case."

"I'll be OK," Fleur protested. "Kate taught me a few things a woman should know on the streets of New York, and if it's anything dangerous, I can run. You can too. We can call from a distance."

"Alright," Ian agreed grudgingly, "but stay behind me, OK? My legs are longer, and I can run faster."

The two teens cautiously walked in the direction of the sound. They saw what appeared to be a homeless man sitting on what was left of the grass, rocking back and forth. He pointed at the recycling bin. Swallowing, Ian peered in. He grabbed Fleur's hand and led her a few feet away before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

* * *

"Was that Ian?" Kate asked.

"It was," Castle confirmed. "He found a body, or at least parts of one, at the park. He's already called 911. He and Fleur are going to wait for the police there."

"Are they all right?" Kate asked.

"I guess so, as all right as they can be when faced with something like that. I should go over there."

Kate put up her hand. "No, I should go, if you'll stay with Amelia. It looks like I may have a new consulting gig sooner than I thought."


	62. Chapter 62

Ian 2

Chapter 62

Still wrapped firmly in Ian's arms, Fleur looked up at Kate. "Ms. Beckett, I'm glad you're here. But please don't tell _Maman_ and Papa. _Maman_ will think Ian and I … and we were doing nothing wrong."

Kate reached out to smooth the girl's hair. "You're over 18. There's no reason I need to say a word to your parents if you don't want me to. The police won't either, and they're not in the habit of releasing the names of witnesses. But things like this can come back on you at the worst times. So, if you need to talk about this, anytime, come to me or call me."

Fleur nodded. " _Merci bien_. I will."

"Hey Beckett," Karpowski called "I wasn't expecting you."

"Ian is family," Kate explained, "and Fleur is his girlfriend."

"So, I see," Karpowski commented.

"Look's like you drew the short holiday straw," Kate observed. "No M.E., yet? I know Lanie's in New Orleans with her folks, but what about Perlmutter?"

"On his way. Apparently, he and his brother Edgar were in the midst of a celebration. He didn't sound too pleased at being called away."

Kate rolled her eyes. "When is he ever pleased about anything? Have you interviewed Ian and Fleur yet? Are they free to go?"

"Sure," Karpowski agreed. "Ian didn't see anything anyway, except the body parts in the bin and the homeless guy who was screaming. And Fleur saw even less. But I'll want Ian's prints for exclusion."

"They're already in the system," Kate said. "His DNA too. Ian was a possible target a few years back, and Castle made sure that everything possible was done to protect him."

"Shoulda known," Karpowski responded. "Listen, why don't you take them out of here, then? I don't think Perlmutter is going to be able to tell us much when he gets here. As far as I can make out, the victim was killed elsewhere. There's no blood anywhere except for the bin. Looks like our perp put the parts in a plastic trash bag, to carry them here. The bag is still in the bin. Just arms and legs. No internal organs, so no liver temp." Karpowski pointed to Jody, who was still huddled on the grass, his knees pulled up to his chest. I couldn't get anything out of him, but there's no blood on him. I don't think he had anything to do with the body in the bin. I'm going to have the unis transport him to Bellevue."

Kate went back to Ian and Fleur. "Come on," she said softly. "We can go now."

* * *

"If Ian and Fleur hadn't been involved, I would love this case," Castle declared. "Body parts in a recycling bin, the possible scenarios are endless, even another variation of Mary Shelley's masterpiece, if one was going to be that unimaginative. Any clue who the vic was?'

"Perlmutter probably took prints," Kate replied, but if he got an ID, he would have called Karpowski with it."

"You're going to volunteer your services on this case," Castle stated. "You would even if Ian wasn't involved. You have always loved the weird ones. It's one of the many things that attracted me to you."

"You're right, I am," Kate admitted. "And since the 12th caught it, I won't have to get up to speed on anything. The lab should have something by morning; I figure I'll call Montgomery then."

Castle consulted his watch. "The Clarys said they were going to pick Fleur up after Roger's thing was over. They should be here any minute. What are we going to say to them?"

Kate put her hand on Rick's arm. "Babe, unless Fleur decides otherwise, we smile and wish them a good evening."

* * *

Ian would have given anything if Fleur could have stayed with him that night. He wasn't even thinking about sex. He just would have liked to have his arms around her, for comfort and to know she was safe. But when her parents came she smiled, waved at him, Kate and his dad and said au revoir. Despite any Rodgers genes he might have inherited, he didn't think he could have been that good an actor. At least there was no school the next day. The two of them could spend it and the rest of the long weekend together. He had no idea what they'd do; anything but go to the park.

* * *

"Yeah Kate, we got an ID, Karpowski reported. "The arms and legs belonged to a Claude Barger. No convictions, but he was in the system. He was picked up once for assaulting a neighbor, but according to witnesses, the neighbor had attacked him. The guy was a hoarder. He had a house in what used to be the cheap part of Queens. His yard was full of crap, and his neighbor just lost it when rats started coming on his property. The health department made Barger clean up his mess, what was outside, anyway, and we don't have anything on him after that. The people in the neighborhood said he kept to himself and never spoke to anyone and never had any visitors, except for the day before Thanksgiving. His next-door neighbor said he thought he heard voices shouting at each other. We're scrubbing the traffic video now to figure out who was there. I checked out his house. It looks like the porch was our crime scene. CSU found blood. There wouldn't have been any room for anyone to be killed inside, anyway. The place was stuffed to the rafters with junk, with just a little room on the bed where he must have slept and little trails to the door and the refrigerator. He must have eaten straight out of the fridge. The sink, the stove, everything else was buried in old newspapers."

"Any next of kin?" Kate asked.

"I'm still trying to find out, but we haven't found a record of anyone so far. You think Castle might come up with one of his theories?"

"I'm pretty much counting on it," Kate admitted.

"So, we have a hoarder whose arms and legs ended up in a recycling bin," Castle reiterated. "Sounds like someone was making a comment on Barger's lifestyle, that perhaps he should have made use of a recycling bin. Hell of a way to do it, though."

"But who would have done something like that, Castle?" Kate wondered. "I can understand someone being angry that the house was a garbage dump, but it's nothing to kill someone over."

"Sounds like Barger was in need of some serious help, long before he was murdered," Castle commented. "If there was someone close to him. I can't imagine letting a thing like that go on."

"Barger was an adult, Castle. If he wasn't posing a serious danger to himself or others, he couldn't be forced to seek help, even if someone cared enough to try. Same thing with the homeless man who first saw what was in the recycling bin. They can check him out at Bellevue, maybe keep him for 48 hours, but they can't make him stay."

Castle shook his head. "Hell, of a system, Kate."

"Yeah, Castle, but it's the one we have to work with. At least with some luck, there'll be something on the traffic cams that will help us figure out who might have gone after Barger."

Castle slammed his palm on the surface of his desk. "Too little, too late."


	63. Chapter 63

Ian 2

Chapter 63

"Kate, you should take a look at this," Castle called.

Kate clomped in from the bedroom, where she had just pulled on her boots. "What, Babe?'

"It's a news story, not exactly a banner headline with all the political stuff going on, but good enough to make it as human interest. There was a cooler of organs dropped off anonymously at New York-Presbyterian, complete with the tissue typing records. The hospital confirmed the test results were correct and several patients signed waivers to receive the organs, even though there was an extra degree of danger attached because the provenance was unknown. One of the patients needed a liver so badly; she would have died in a few hours without the one from the cooler. I think this may be related to the body parts in the bin. There were no organs, right? And no head either? That cooler didn't just have kidneys, a liver, and a heart; it had corneas. Those would have had to come from the head."

"That's a stretch, even for you."

"Maybe," Castle allowed, "but could you get Perlmutter to tissue type what body parts he has and crosscheck them with the hospital? I'll bet that if I'm wrong, the chances of a match are pretty small."

Kate shrugged. "I can try, Babe, but you know Perlmutter. It won't be easy."

"Kate, I have faith. You can make the most hardened criminal crumble. You can handle Perlmutter."

* * *

"Ex-detective, you have been with that writer too long," Perlmutter accused. "I'm assuming this is his idea?"

"It is," Kate admitted. "But I am officially consulting for the N.Y.P.D., and I'm the one making the request. If you want to verify that with Captain Montgomery, I'll wait."

"I'll do that," Perlmutter huffed. He turned to her a few moments later as he hung up the phone. "It seems that Montgomery shares your acceptance of your husband's fantasies."

"Or my husband's brilliance," Kate suggested. "How long will it take to get results of the tests?"

"The tests can take weeks," Perlmutter replied sullenly.

"During which time a lot of patients would die," Kate retorted. "What's the fastest you can get me something?"

"There is a queue, you know, Mrs. Castle. Those are hardly the only tests I need to run."

"Seeing that all your patients are dead, I don't see why the tests can't be moved to the front of the line," Kate argued. "You've already heard from Montgomery, and I did play poker with the mayor and the commissioner, last week."

Perlmutter threw up his hands. "All right! I should have something preliminary for you by tomorrow. Happy now?"

"I'll be happy when I have some answers," Kate replied.

* * *

Jed Marsten sat by his wife's bed. She was already looking a lot better. Her skin was less sallow, and the shadows under her eyes had retreated. She still had months ahead of her before she'd be fully healed, but she would be healed. That was all that mattered. That was all that had ever mattered.

The records of who'd received the other organs were confidential, but as a doctor, he'd heard his share of scuttlebutt. They'd all served a good cause. He tried as hard as he could to feel guilty about the donor, but he couldn't. He could only see life and death as inextricably linked. From rotting plants fertilizing new ones to the death of one man giving new life to so many, it was all connected. It all made sense. The universe was one big recycling center. Everything was part of a grand plan. He couldn't feel guilty for his role in that.

* * *

Ian and Fleur snuggled beneath a blanket in front of the big screen television. Chick flicks were not usually his thing. He preferred a good sci-fi story, or swords and sorcery. Fleur usually liked historical dramas, but that Friday, she wanted guaranteed happy endings, and he couldn't blame her. They could have gone with Disney or Pixar, but romance gave them an excuse to cuddle. Not that either one of them normally needed one, but what happened at the park had a chilling effect on the kind of sexual play they had been having when Jody's screams erupted. Warmth and closeness were all either one of them wanted at that moment - and hot chocolate. They'd made it the classical way, carefully melting shaved chocolate on the stove and stirring in cream. It was thick and didn't really need marshmallows, but they added them anyway, the sticky sweetness coating their lips. To add to the sweet buzz, they shared a plate of dark chocolate dipped cookies, left over from the Thanksgiving feast.

Ian watched the story unfolding on the screen. It was hardly an original plot. The protagonists had been high school sweethearts but torn apart when the boy received a scholarship to a school across the country, where his girlfriend would be unable to follow him. He had been willing to reject it, in favor of staying with her, so she broke up with him rather than do what she saw as ruining his future. Years later, both divorced, they met at a high school reunion. The old sparks flew, and they ended up getting married.

Ian couldn't help thinking about how much time had been wasted. He'd been young during his father's unhappy marriage to Gina, but he remembered pieces of it. He remembered how many times he'd come home from school to the lights off because his dad had a migraine after he and Gina fought. And even when he wasn't in physical pain, Ian could often tell his dad was unhappy, just by the tiny lines around his eyes and mouth. Gina wasn't happy either. Ian had decided that it could never be worth it to be with someone you didn't love, and it was worth everything to be with someone you did. He could see that with his dad and Kate. And he could feel it with Fleur. He pulled her toward him, feeling the comforting weight of her head against his shoulder. Chocolate was great, but Fleur was better.

* * *

Dr. Sidney Perlmutter gritted his teeth as he picked up the phone to call Kate Beckett. He'd been hoping she was wrong, or more accurately that that crazy husband of hers was wrong, but the preliminary tests were finished, and they checked with the data he'd obtained from the hospital. It was possible that some factors wouldn't match when the final results were in, but the odds were against it. He already had enough of a match that an emergency transplant could have been authorized. Claude Barger's organs had ended up on the doorstep of New York -Presbyterian."

* * *

Castle popped out of his chair. "So, I was right!"

"You were, Kate confirmed. "But I'm not sure how much closer that gets us to Claude Barger's killer. The traffic cams were a bust. There weren't any close enough to the house to pick up any car that might have been heading there, and the only thing we have to narrow down the suspects from the cars caught by cameras further away is that the voice the neighbor heard was a male."

"You have more than that," Castle pointed out. "Those organs were removed and kept in transplantable condition, all of them. That implies a surgeon or at least someone with advanced surgical skills. Could you run the owners of the cars in the area around the time the neighbor heard the argument against the professions of the owners?"

Kate rubbed her hand down the length of her face. "The DMV doesn't have that kind of data. We'd have to individually check the background of the owner of each car - assuming their owners were driving the cars. It's a long shot, Babe and a lot of work. I'd have to access the databases available at the precinct."

"I'm pretty sure that Ian and Fleur are going to be here pretty much all weekend," Castle said. "If they are willing to spend some of that time looking after Amelia, I can help."


	64. Chapter 64

Ian 2

Chapter 64

Castle wiped his hand across his eyes. Finding out the background of the owner of every car that had been in the general area of the Barger house during the assumed kill zone was more tedious than he had expected. Kate had checked with Ian and Fleur, and Amelia was fine, but he and Kate had been at it most of the morning, and in addition to the stiffness in his neck and shoulders, his stomach was rumbling. "What would you say to ordering a pizza?" he queried.

Kate shifted her gaze from her screen, her lips twitching upward. "I'd say order it to go. I've found a suspect, Dr. Josiah Marsten."

There was no phone listed for Josiah Marsten, so Kate drove to the address of record. No one answered her insistent knocking on the door of the condo, but a neighbor came out and told her that Dr. Marsten was at the hospital with his sick wife, and usually was, except for a few hours at night. "New York-Presbyterian?" Kate asked. The neighbor nodded.

"Want to lay odds the wife has recently had a transplant?" Castle asked.

"No odds," Kate responded. "But we'll need to do this carefully. We can't just accost a man at the bedside of his sick wife."

"Why not start out by checking if his car is at the hospital?" Castle asked. "Even in a sea of cars, it shouldn't be too hard to find. It should be in a doctor's lot."

Castle's lids lowered over his eyes as he shook his head. "It's not here, Kate."

"Maybe he took a cab or something, Castle," Kate offered.

"Or he ditched it," Castle suggested darkly.

"You are in a mood, aren't you?" Kate said. "I know that hungry look. We should have stopped for your pizza."

"Never mind," Castle insisted, "Let's just find Dr. Marsten. If he won't leave his wife's side, it shouldn't be hard. She's probably wherever they put transplant patients, and I'm sure some helpful volunteer at the information desk will be happy to direct us."

Josiah Marsten was heading back from grabbing a cup of coffee while his wife slept when he spotted the couple striding toward her room. He recognized the man. His face was on the back of the book jackets of the books a number of his patients buried their noses in to distract themselves from the seriousness of their conditions. It was Richard Castle, most likely accompanied by his wife, the model for dogged detective Nikki Heat. Jed's stomach clenched, acid burning his throat. He had to get out of there.

Kate peered in the door of the private room. There was only a woman sleeping. "He's not here," she whispered, backing away.

"Maybe he left for a little while to get something to eat," Castle suggested. His voice caught as painful memories constricted his windpipe. "If it were you in there, I wouldn't go far."

Kate reached out to squeeze his hand. "We can check the cafeteria. Even if he isn't there, we should feed you. We can feed both of us."

* * *

Kate looked up from a hamburger and french fries with their sogginess undisguised by a deluge of ketchup. "I don't think we're going to find Marsten in the hospital, Castle. I can ask one of the boys to put out a BOLO for him and his car, but if he's getting around by cab or subway, we probably won't get anything."

"Maybe we should go at it from a different angle," Castle suggested. "What is Marsten's relationship with Barger, or more to the point, what is Marsten's wife's relationship with Barger? Marsten wouldn't have just picked someone to carve up for their organs at random and lucked out on a match for his wife. The victim would most likely have to be close relative, but not a particularly beloved one."

"You're right," Kate agreed. "We need to learn more about Barger's family."

"You can try the databases you can hook into from the precinct," Castle suggested, "but drop me at home. I can relieve Ian and Fleur, and I have some sources of my own."

"All right,' Kate agreed, "Not much else we can do."

* * *

Ian captured video on his phone as his sister cruised on uncertain bare feet, supporting herself on the coffee table. He heard his father come in but didn't stop. "Dad, I was sure you and Kate would want to see this. Amelia hasn't done it before, has she?"

"No, she hasn't," Castle confirmed. "I'm going to get the good video camera, so Kate can get the best view, but keep shooting." Castle returned just in time to see Amelia land on her rounded baby rump. He shook his head. "Wouldn't you know it! But I'll keep the camera at hand just in case she tries it again. You and Fleur have earned a respite if you want one."

Ian put his arm around Fleur's waist. "We'll just go into my studio. Fleur had a look on her face while she was watching Amelia pull herself along, that I want to get into my sketchbook before I lose the image in my mind."

"Oh, and Mr. Castle," Fleur added, "Amelia ate all her chicken for lunch, but she didn't finish her squash. I put it in the refrigerator. And she's been playing all day, so she should be ready for a nap soon."

"God willing," Castle responded. Amelia held out her arms, and he picked her up. "Let's see if we can get you chasing a dream besides bipedal mobility. Then maybe I can do some online sleuthing."

"Da sloo," Amelia agreed.

* * *

Kate hunched over a borrowed computer. There wasn't much on Barger. There was no mortgage holder listed on his house. That made sense. She couldn't imagine any insurance company in their right mind underwriting a fire policy, and a lender wouldn't lend him anything on his home, such as it had been, without one. There were no credit cards, but there was a bank account, a fairly healthy one. Direct transfer paid any bills he had. She began checking records for other Bargers, and discovered that the clan was ancient, complete with a crest, and had assembled considerable genealogical records. Most of them were unavailable online, but there was a family historian based in Virginia. It seemed unlikely that someone in another state would have much information on a virtual recluse like Claude, but Kate had nothing to lose by making the call.

Jeanie Barger MacMillan frowned into the phone. "Claude Barger is dead? We weren't sure he was still alive. The family lost touch with him years ago. His wife and son were killed in an automobile accident. He survived, but he was pretty bad off; some kind of brain damage. There was a daughter who survived too. The story was that she caused the accident by throwing a tantrum and trying to jump out of the car while it was moving. At least that was the story the police got from Claude, but he was so confused that no one knew if that actually happened or Claude imagined it as a way of coping with what did. He was in no shape to take care of her and didn't want any part of her in any case. No one in the rest of the family was in a position to take her in at the time. She went into foster care and was eventually adopted. We lost track of her. We lost track of Claude too. I'm sorry, but that's about all I can tell you."

"Another brick wall," Kate muttered to herself as she put down the phone.


	65. Chapter 65

Ian 2

Chapter 65

Castle engulfed Kate in his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin as soon as she dragged into the loft. "I've been doing a little research and your brick wall is more like a yellow brick road."

Kate pulled back, looking up at him. "What do you mean, Babe?"

"I mean that I checked out Claude Barger's lost daughter. She's not lost."

Kate's eyebrows rose as lines flanked the bridge of her nose. "Adoption records are usually sealed, especially in a case like hers. How did you do that?"

"I started with the assumption that Mrs. Marsten - her name is Juliet by the way, I sneaked a peek at the screen in the hospital when the nice lady at the desk was looking her up - is Barger's daughter. She was probably too young at the time of the accident to remember him. That's the only way this case makes sense. I masqueraded as her on one of those genealogy sites and put in Claude Barger as the father. Leaves sprouted on the family tree like time-lapse photography of spring. Someone had already done a thorough search - probably Josiah Marsten. Juliet must have needed a kidney or maybe the lobe of a liver. You don't have to die to donate either one of those. Josiah checks out Claude. Maybe he even digs up some old medical records and decides that Claude has a good chance of being compatible with Juliet.

"Josiah goes to see Claude and begs him to save Juliet. But after a lifetime of grief blamed rightly or wrongly on a little girl, Claude refuses. Josiah hits him with something, leaving blood on the porch, then sticks him in the trunk of his car to take him somewhere to remove his organs, maybe a clinic where he can create a sterile environment. Maybe he even has a place prepared - just in case. Marsten has a messenger drop the organs at the hospital and sweats through Juliet's surgery. Then when he's sure she's come through all right, he finds a time the park is almost deserted to dump the spare parts in the recycling bin, as a final statement against his father-in-law, and ditches the car somewhere. Love, anger, murder, revenge; it all fits, Kate. But how do we prove it?"

Kate reached up to frame his face with her palms. "You have the trail we need to follow in your story! The messenger, Rick. Messenger services keep records. So, do hospitals. We find the guy who delivered the cooler; we can trace him back to Marsten."

"And we have Montgomery put surveillance on the hospital. When Marsten comes back to see Juliet - and after all he's been through, I can't see him not doing that - he's collared," Castle continued.

"What's the matter, Babe?" Kate asked. "That's not the look you usually get when you figure out a case."

"I just feel for Josiah Marsten, that's all," Castle explained. "If I was in his shoes, I'm not sure I would have acted much differently." A wan smile overcame his lips. "Except that I would have been better at getting rid of the body. If he had buried or incinerated it, he might have gotten away clean. No one would have even gone looking for Claude Barger until the case was ice cold, and even then, he just would have been a missing person. Marsten was tripped up by his own anger."

"He hasn't been tripped up yet," Kate reminded her husband. "This case still has a long way to go."

"I don't think the last leg of the race will take long," Castle said.

* * *

Jed Marsten wasn't even surprised when he was approached in the hospital by two men with prominently displayed badges. With a sigh of inevitability, he let himself be cuffed. Juliet would live. That was all that mattered. He could face whatever else was coming.

Kate's cell phone rang as she stirred a roux for Alfredo sauce while Castle dropped fettuccine into boiling water. She thumbed the speaker icon and laid the phone on the counter. "Yo, Kate," Esposito reported, "we got Marsten. He confessed. His lawyer is going to plead diminished capacity, but the case is cleared. Montgomery is happy with the precinct's numbers. He even pulled his good bottle out of his drawer. Too bad you weren't here. But Montgomery said he's going to send you a box of those chocolates you like. He said to thank Castle, too."

"He can show me how grateful he is at our next poker game," Castle announced, "but that's great, Espo."

"Yeah, well I gotta go," Esposito said. "Got a date with Trixie."

"Exotic dancer?" Castle guessed.

Kate could hear the grin on Esposito's face when he corrected with "pole dancer."

"Have a good time, Bro," Castle said.

"Count on it," Esposito declared before ending the call.

"Sounds like everything worked out," Kate observed.

"Yeah," Castle agreed. "But I really hope Josiah has a good lawyer."

Kate stirred cream into her roux and made sure she could easily add Parmesan cheese when the sauce thickened. "This will be ready soon."

Castle checked the texture of the pasta in the vigorously boiling water. "This too. As usual, we have the perfect partnership."

* * *

 **Two Weeks Later**

Fleur finished her last exam before her classes would break for the Christmas holidays. Ian had a few days to go and had been working hard to finish his assignments, which required turning in artwork rather than the papers that were required of her. She knew he wasn't getting much sleep. He'd spent some time drawing her that he should have spent on his assigned projects, and there was also his work for Dark Force. But he'd assured her that he'd catch up on his rest over the holidays. She planned to make sure he did. In fact, she was looking forward to snuggling next to him to make sure he spent enough time on his bed, or at least on the couch. _Maman_ had drilled the dangers of being in a boy's bedroom into her for so long, that she still felt funny about it.

Ian had been right about his father making a big deal about Christmas. A huge tree had gone up in the great room of the loft, as soon as Ms. Beckett and Mr. Castle had finished solving the murder she and Ian had stumbled into on Thanksgiving. Mr. Castle had made a ceremony out of decorating it. Ian had explained that it was something he and his dad always did together, then Ms. Beckett had been invited to join in.

This year, Fleur had been shy but thrilled to be included in the festivities. Many of the ornaments had been crafted by Ian as he was growing up. They were displayed prominently. Anything breakable or small enough to make it into a baby mouth was on the highest branches, with the lower ones covered in soft stuffed ornaments Mr. Castle had made when Ian was a toddler, and would now keep Amelia safe as she was taking wobbly steps. It had been lucky that both of Amelia's parents had been home when she'd finally walked on her own, and the event had been captured with the video camera that Mr. Castle had kept handy.

Fleur had loved seeing the family enjoying the replay and showing it off to Mr. Castle's mother and Ms. Beckett's father. She hoped that someday she and Ian could have that much joy with a child of their own. She was counting down the time until Ian finished school, the time they had agreed to marry. She was no longer sure she wanted to wait that long, or that Ian did either. The walk she and Ian had taken in the park on Thanksgiving, had shown how the simplest of plans could take unimaginable turns. She would just have to wait for whatever was to come.


	66. Chapter 66

Ian 2

Chapter 66

Fleur strode determinedly to stand in the doorway of Castle's office. Rick looked up, immediately catching the creases that marred her usually smooth face. "Something wrong, Fleur?"

"Something's really wrong with Ian," she declared. "He said he had a cold, but I don't think it's a cold, not even a bad one. He couldn't stop coughing. Now, he's asleep. He's shivering, but I can feel his fever."

Castle was already out of his chair running toward the stairs to Ian's room. One look at his son's face and he knew Fleur was right. But the last thing he wanted was to drag Ian through the frigid December air to an emergency room. He yanked the phone from his pocket. "Cy, it's Rick. Yeah, look, I know you and Rita are getting ready to go off to Tahiti to celebrate the success of _Whole and Healed_ , but I need you to come see Ian. I know he's a little past seeing a pediatrician, but you've known him all his life. You can tell me if what I'm seeing is as serious as I think it is or I'm just an overwrought father. I don't want to drag him to the hospital and possibly make things worse. You won't miss your tropical celebration, I swear. You do this for me, and I'll get you and Rita a luxury charter."

"No need Rick, Rita and I were postponing anyway. In the past couple of days, my practice has seen a raft of cases of what looks like a new strain of pneumonia. And it's been mostly the patients approaching or in their teen years. That might be what's hitting Ian. And if it is, you're right. Thermal shock is the last thing he needs. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What about Amelia? How contagious is this thing?"

"If it is the pneumonia, it's mostly attacking children who were run down or weakened by another illness. I don't think you need to worry too much, but I'll check her out too."

"Thanks, Cy, I owe you," Castle said.

"You'll get my bill," Cy assured him, a smile discernable in his voice. "Insurance usually won't pay for house calls."

* * *

Cy Pearlman lowered the tips of his stethoscope from his ears to his neck and locked his gaze with Ian's feverish eyes. "You have pneumonia young man. I'm going to give you a couple of shots to jump-start your treatment right now and call the pharmacy with your prescriptions. That will also help protect your family and your friend. But I need you to understand this is nothing to fool around with. You need to rest as much as you can through the holiday. Any all-night sessions at your drawing board will have to be put on hold. I don't want you trying to go anywhere either until your fever's been normal for at least 24 hours. You try to push yourself at all, and you could be spending Christmas in the hospital."

"He's not going anywhere," Fleur declared.

Pearlman turned to her and winked. "Young lady, I believe you."

Cy accepted the cup of steaming coffee that Kate offered and sat at the table with Kate and Rick. "Amelia looks just fine, there's no fever, as I'm sure you already knew, and her lungs sound clear. Rick, you know the drill. Lots of hand-washing for everyone. Get as much fluid into Ian as you can manage. I'm sure his girlfriend can help you with that. Ian's got a pretty stolid protector there. Everyone should get enough sleep and eat properly. Don't give this bug any openings, and call me if you have any questions."

"We will, doctor, thank you," Kate said.

Kate grabbed Rick's hand as soon as the loft door closed behind Cy Pearlman. "Ian's going to be fine."

Castle sighed. "This is my fault. I knew he was exhausting himself and I let him do it."

"Babe, it's not like you could have stopped him, any more than I can stop you from writing through the night when inspiration hits you. He's 18 years old, and it's his life. You're there to help catch him when he stumbles. Unless you want to be arrested for imprisonment, that's all you can do. And it looks like Fleur has the situation in hand."

Castle stroked Kate's cheek. "Yeah, she's turning out to be quite a tigress. Reminds me of someone I know."

* * *

"What are you reading?" Jacqueline asked Roger as he scanned a missive from Martinique.

"This is from Gaston. He says the progress on the new bank stopped after the hurricane, but they've started building again. They expect it to be finished in a few months."

"Does that mean that we will be going back to Martinique?" Jacqueline asked.

Roger shrugged. " _Je ne sais pas_. They could put François in charge. They could even choose Manon. Or they could decide they want me. We've known for a while that I could be transferred back. We'll just have to see."

"How about Fleur?" Jacqueline asked. "She's in school here. She's doing very well. And I think she's truly in love with Ian. As afraid as I was of that happening, he makes her happy."

"We'd have to be blind not to see that," Roger agreed. "And his family have been great friends to us. I don't want to have to pull her away. If she wants to stay, she could try to apply for a student visa on her own - but you know how the politics are going right now. It would take time and could be difficult or impossible. If she's not here as my unmarried child, she may not have any choice but to go back to Martinique. We'll just have to hope for the best."

* * *

Ian dropped his charcoal pencil as he was seized with another coughing fit. Fleur offered him the honey spiked cup of tea that was at his bedside. "This should help. And the doctor wanted you to keep drinking as much as you can."

Ian pushed his sketch pad aside in disgust as he took what she offered. "I wanted to finish that drawing of you."

" _Mon chéri_ ," Fleur soothed. "You've made hundreds of drawings of me. All beautiful. When you are better I will sit in your studio all day, so you can make more if that is what you want to do. But right now, the doctor said you have to rest."

"I'm not sleepy," Ian complained.

"I could read to you," Fleur suggested.

Ian couldn't help smiling. "You sound a lot nicer than my voice synthesizer. There's a new Sword of Cillian Mountain that I downloaded to my tablet, but I haven't started it yet. It's not the kind of thing you like. The Dwarf Prince is supposed to use the sword he forged to conquer the forces of the Opics who are trying to steal the Stone of Destiny and use it to plunge the world into a millennium of rule by the Demons of Gault. Would you be OK with that?"

Fleur picked up Ian's tablet from his desk and began to scroll for the right file. The text on the screen was accompanied by a picture of one of the ugliest characters she'd ever seen, brandishing a sword. Scanning the opening paragraph, she could see why the story would attract Ian. The tale lilted from her lips. "Brantforth caught an image of himself in the water he used to quench the heat of the metal he forged. He immediately looked away. The curse laid upon his birth by the Opic sorcerer was still with him, but it would never stop him. If anything, it just made him more determined to rescue his land and his people."


	67. Chapter 67

Ian 2

Chapter 67

In the interests of caution, the Christmas festivities at the Castle loft were limited to those who'd already been exposed to Ian. Kate and Rick had tentatively planned a new year's gathering where Martha and Jim could be included, and gifts had been sent by messenger.

Ian watched from beneath a Christmas throw on the couch as the bounty beneath the tree was distributed. He'd recruited Kate to wrap and stow his gifts for Fleur, and asked Fleur to take care of the ones he'd chosen for his family. He gazed at the packages where she'd created flowery decorations inspired by the island of her birth. They were a different brand of Christmas, but they were very beautiful and very Fleur.

Amelia was doing her best to tote the Thea Bear he'd ordered for her. The stuffed animal was decked out in a leather flight helmet and the type of outfit that Amelia Earhart might have worn to take flight. The little girl was fascinated. Ian had heard that the smaller the toddler, the bigger the toy should be. From his sister's joy, it appeared to be true.

His dad had been easy. A Blu-ray of _Forbidden Planet_ had come out, and he'd bundled it with a vintage poster and an action figure of Robbie the Robot. Kate had been more of a puzzle. He'd put his head together with Fleur and in the end, had decided to create a series of family portraits for Kate, documenting Amelia's growth from squalling infant to brave if not always steady explorer. Thankfully, he'd finished the project before pneumonia had descended on him. Though he was still far from being able to give Fleur the kind of ring he wanted her to have, he'd found a necklace with two linked hearts finely crafted of gold and on a delicate gold chain. When she'd held it out to him to fasten around her neck, he could see that she felt the message of the jewelry as strongly as he did.

Castle presented Kate with a Fedora and a pair of gum rubber-soled shoes, as a salute to her detecting activities, then had added a jade elephant pendant with ruby eyes and matching jade and ruby earrings. She'd given Rick the first limited edition collectible figure of Moses Shannon, the red-lined jacket of an incarnation of Dr. Who and a personal coupon book that no one else was allowed to see but brought a spark to his eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

In addition to her bear from Ian, Amelia also received her first pony, plush and pink, with a gleaming mane and tail and wheels that would allow her to scoot around easily on the hardwood floor. Rick and Kate gifted Ian with a full video set of the history of animation and a tablet with the newest upgrades to bring his creations to life. Most precious to him was the scrapbook Fleur had lovingly assembled of pictures they'd taken together in the time since they'd met.

Christmas dinner had been scaled down from the usual huge turkey to a large roast chicken, with an assortment of side dishes, including mashed potatoes from which Amelia shaped a structure that caused Castle to whistle the recurring musical motif from _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_. Dessert was pumpkin pie and Christmas cookies, some of which had been sent by Jacqueline Clary. After the meal, everyone except an energy filled Amelia was content to veg out in front of the blaze Castle had kindled in the fireplace.

* * *

Kate pulled a comforter around herself and Castle as they lay in bed together that night. "Even with Ian being sick, I think that was one of the nicest Christmases I've ever had."

"It was," Castle agreed. "No one was working too hard or scurrying around to make sure everything was holiday perfection. We were just all enjoying being together. I think I might like it if we made Christmas lower key like that from now on."

Kate nestled under the curve of his arm. "Now that really is a Christmas miracle."

* * *

 **Seven Months Later**

Snow and sleet were a nostalgic memory as heat and humidity drained the verve of even the most determined New Yorkers. Ian gazed at his bank balance, with all the excitement the rest of the population lacked. The first tranche of the royalties on the Christmas sales of the Baby Blaster merchandise had just been transferred into his account. He could buy Fleur a ring and announce to the world that they were destined to be husband and wife. He doubted it would come as a surprise to his dad and Kate, it wouldn't be much of one to the Clarys either but having the symbol of the promise he and Fleur shared, on her finger for the world to see, would still be incredible. As unpleasant as the streets of New York were, he couldn't wait to take Fleur shopping.

He knew where to go. His father had a jeweler where he bought gifts for Kate. It wasn't one of the fancy stores that advertised their wares on TV. It was the tiniest shop in an old Brooklyn neighborhood, not 47th Street in Manhattan, where the tourists flocked to find the vaunted treasures of New York's diamond district. There were bars across the front window and a heavy metal door, with a lock that released with a buzzer activated from the inside. To look at it, you might think it was a pawn shop, the kind of disreputable one police checked for stolen merchandise. But inside were the descendants of a family who'd fled the Germans in World War II, arriving at Ellis Island with only a few clothes and the skills of years of crafting beautiful things. The shop had changed little over the decades, except for the security system and the computer that tracked inventory and sales. The merchandise was still all one of a kind, created to express the spirit of each customer.

Once inside the door of the shop, Ian and Fleur approached the counter hand in hand. Eli Baruch smiled through his graying beard. "Aren't you Castle's boy?"

Ian nodded.

"You two have the look of a couple in search of a symbol of your betrothal. You are still very young; you are sure?"

"We've been sure for a long time," Ian said. "I've just been getting the money together."

Eli nodded. "Rather than going to your father. Good for you." He shifted his gaze to Fleur. "And just what sort of a ring would you like for this young man to present to you?"

Fleur leaned against Ian's side. "Something that will show the world how much we love each other."

"Indeed," Eli agreed. "Then it will have to be something very special indeed."

* * *

"Another email from Gaston?" Jacqueline asked as Roger frowned at the text on his tablet.

" _Oui_. The construction on the bank is complete except for the installation of the vault. The board will be meeting to begin decisions about staffing. It won't be long now until we know if I'll be called back to Martinique, perhaps even before Fleur starts her next term at school. I suppose that would be a blessing, at least we wouldn't have to pull her out once she'd already begun."

Jacqueline reached out to touch his arm. "But it's not her school that you're worried about, is it?"

Roger shook his head. " _Non_."

Jacqueline sighed. "Neither one of us wants to break our daughter's heart."


	68. Chapter 68

Ian 2

Chapter 68

"That's it, then?" Jacqueline asked.

"The final decision," Roger confirmed tossing the letter that had arrived from Martinique to the table. "We will have to leave New York. I'm to report back within a month."

Jacqueline twisted her fingers, tears welling in her eyes. "Fleur and Ian are engaged. They're planning to be married as soon as they finish school. How can we tell her?"

Roger grimly shook his head. "She's known for a long time that this might come. We'll just have to pray that God will show them a way to work things out. We might as well do it now. Delaying the news will hurt no less."

* * *

Curled up on her bed, the tears had dried from Fleur's face, but sobs still rose uncontrollably from her chest. She needed to talk to Ian. She couldn't do it by phone. Selfishly, she needed him to hold her while she forced the words from her mouth. And she wanted to hold him too; make everything seem all right. Stiffly, she released her knees from the sanctuary of her chest, and her bare feet found the floor.

* * *

Ian didn't need Fleur to tell him something bad had happened. He could see it in the face he could have drawn with his eyes closed. Her distress was in every curve and angle of her body. He was also pretty sure what the problem was. While he and Fleur had talked little about the chance that they might be separated, the possibility had always hung over them, like a storm cloud invisible over the horizon but heralded by the oppression in the air. "Your father has to go back to Martinique."

Fleur cradled his cheek in the softness of her palm. "Not just Papa. _Maman_ and I will have to go too. You know that."

"I don't know anything like that," Ian argued. "We promised each other we'd be married. I know you wanted both of us to finish school first, and we will finish school. But I don't need to graduate from SVA to be your husband. I have money, money of my own. And more royalties will be coming, from Baby Blaster and maybe even from what we both did with Riton. He belongs at least as much to you as he does to me. I don't think Dad and Kate would mind if you stayed here with me, but we could get a place for just the two of us, maybe student housing or even something better." Holding tightly to Fleur's hand, Ian dropped to one knee. "Fleur, I'm asking you, will you marry me now, or at least before your parents have to leave, and stay with me, always."

Fleur knelt in front of him, her hand finding the nape of his neck, and pressed her lips to his. " _Oui, mon amour_ , I will."

* * *

The air conditioner in the loft was going full blast. Ian and Fleur had considered an outdoor wedding, but the heat and humidity of the New York summer had been punctuated by thunderstorms and neither one of them considered having their ceremony being rained on as good luck. The wedding had been hastily planned and even more hastily arranged. Jacqueline had scoured the flower mart for the perfect blooms. Fratelli's, ever attentive to one of their best customers, had provided the cake. Castle's caterer had plunged into action to provide the food and Martha's favorite costumer had designed and asked her crew to make Fleur's dress.

Guests had streamed steadily through the door of the loft. Jacqueline in a sleek but not too showy mother-of-the-bride dress and Roger Clary in a tuxedo sat on one side of the front row of rented chairs. Martha in raiment more muted than usual and Jim Beckett in a dark suit, sat on the other. Behind the family row were members of the 12th Precinct, Lanie, the writers and artists from Dark Force and friends of both Ian and Fleur from SVA and The New School.

Ian pulled at the unaccustomed restriction of the bow tie his father had helped him fasten. Castle, more accustomed to both formal dress and weddings, but still nervous for his son, stood as best man. He laid a hand on Ian's shoulder and whispered, "Just breathe."

"I'm trying," Ian rasped as "Spring" by Vivaldi floated over the assemblage from speakers high on the wall of the loft. Kate let loose an enthusiastic Amelia who bounced down the white satin covered aisle scattering flower petals. The girl was followed more solemnly by her mother, serving as matron of honor. Fleur came behind Kate, her eyes locked with Ian's as she glided over the smooth fabric beneath her delicately sandaled feet. She reached his side beneath an arch of orchids and tiger lilies.

Presiding over the event, Mayor Weldon smiled at the crowd, pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and slipped a pair of reading glasses on his nose. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to witness the joining of Fleur Clary and Ian Castle. Marriage is a life-changing event, not to be entered into lightly. Fleur and Ian are young, but they are serious. Their love came early, but it has stood the test of many challenges and has held fast. They believe with all their hearts that they are ready, and we stand with them in support of that decision. The couple has written their own vows. Fleur, what promise is it that you would give Ian?"

Fleur's voice reached throughout the room without wavering. "Ian Castle, I have known from our first shared moments that you are the completion of my heart. You see me, all of me, as I am, and you love me. You have been there for me, strong for me, through every doubt and every fear. I have seen you give generously to others and unfailingly support all those around you. I cannot imagine a better partner for all the years ahead God may give to us. I will love you, support you, and be at your side for as long as this world gives us life."

"And Ian?" Weldon prompted.

"Fleur, you are my inspiration, my light, the one who makes me greet each day with hope. You know me, you even know where I fail, and you accept me for who I am. No one has ever been given a greater gift. I want to spend my life loving you, supporting you, through whatever the universe holds for us, as long as our life force endures."

"Have you rings?" Weldon asked.

Kate handed Fleur a plain gold band to slip on Ian's finger, and Rick did the same for Ian. Weldon nodded. "Fleur, Ian, repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed."

With their hands newly adorned, and their lips warm from their first wedded kiss, Weldon instructed Ian and Fleur to turn to their guests. "May I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Clary-Castle."

The gathering rose from their seats and applauded as "I Choose You," by Sara Bareilles poured over them.

Amelia, standing on a chair between Martha and Jim, tugged at Jim's jacket. "Grampa, Ian and Fleur married?"

Jim smiled down at his granddaughter. "That they are."

* * *

A/N Dear Guest, Having been born in the U.S., as were my parents, I never had to worry about my status. However, through a convergence of circumstances, I had to help someone who did, because it was in the vital interest of his American born disabled child. Fortunately, at the time, I was in a position to enlist the aid of a well-placed political operative. Even so, straightening out what should have been straightforward took a year. The operative said it was the hardest thing she'd ever done. I looked up student visas before I ever crafted Fleur's dilemma. They do take 6-12 months. Yes, the visas are granted by the U.S., but an interview at an American embassy is required. There are no American embassies in the U.S., and the rules say that visas can't be granted if the education can be accomplished in the home country. For Fleur that means France, of which Martinique is a territory. It's not just a matter of filling out a few forms. She could have very easily been turned down. Since she and Ian desperately wanted to get married anyway and had a verifiable long-standing relationship, the marriage makes a lot more sense. I've also spent a lot of chapters getting there. 😊 Also, age of majority has nothing to do with the immigration rule. Until age 21, she is considered an unmarried child to Roger. That would be her basis for being in the U.S., until she is married.


	69. Chapter 69

Ian 2

Chapter 69

Fleur finished the last stitch on the curtains for the two windows of the tiny apartment she and Ian shared. She could have bought curtains at the discount store more cheaply than she made them from carefully chosen fabric, but they wouldn't have been what she'd pictured for her home. And the apartment was her home. It was the smallest one she'd ever had. If she and Ian had wanted to live in a different borough, they might have been able to afford something bigger, but that would have meant long commutes to school. She could have managed that, but with his commitments to Dark Force, Ian could not afford to spend that much time on a train. Small was fine. She and Ian had a bed and an area where the light from the windows streamed in that served as his studio. There were downsized appliances in what passed for a kitchen, and they had a table that they could eat on, and she could use as a desk. The bathroom only came with an old-fashioned scarred tub, but Ian had hooked up a little shower inside of it, and she'd bought a shower curtain to match the towels that were Dr. Parish's practical gift. The cabinets over the stove and sink wouldn't accommodate all the dishes and cookware she and Ian had received as wedding presents. The rest were stored in the basement of the Castle loft. She and Ian had everything they needed - except thicker walls.

Even during their honeymoon in the fancy suite that Ian's dad had insisted they accept, Fleur had been nervous that her lovemaking with Ian would be overheard, especially since she could hear snatches of conversation from the occupants of the suite next door. Now, she knew way too much about her neighbors' business, and she was afraid they knew way too much about hers. She tried her best to keep her privacy, but sometimes Ian's natural ebullience would burst through. The floor also emitted telltale creaks. Not knowing who else to ask, she'd tentatively broached the subject with Kate, who'd told her that New Yorkers could ignore almost anything and usually did, but suggested that if Fleur was really bothered, she could put drapes on the common walls to deaden the sound. Fleur planned that as her next project.

* * *

Kate watched sympathetically as Castle prowled the loft. "You miss him, don't you?"

"Even more than I thought I would," Castle admitted. "I'd expected to have him around for a few more years. I'm convinced he did the right thing marrying Fleur, and I don't blame them for wanting a place of their own. It's just too quiet around here, especially with Amelia spending her mornings in pre-school."

"I know what you mean," Kate commiserated. "It's terrible to hope that someone will get killed, but I have wished for another case."

"As long as Amelia is at pre-school, we could drop into the 12th for a visit and see if anything is on the board," Castle suggested.

Kate looked at her watch and grinned, rotating her shoulders and hips in a squiggly happy dance. "We have at least an hour right now. Let's go!"

* * *

The egg smashed to the floor of the bullpen, spattering the side of Ryan's desk and spitting tiny drops of yolk on Kate's ankles. "I can't believe you're still trying that," Kate reproved."

Ryan looked up at Castle. "It's the autumn equinox. How come the trick worked when you did it?" Ryan asked.

"Because it was a trick," Castle admitted, "one I learned to amuse Ian when he was little. But a magician can never reveal his secrets. You'll have to figure it out yourself."

"After you clean that mess up before Montgomery sees it," Esposito inserted.

"Honestly, don't you guys have any kind of a case, even a cold one?" Kate asked.

"We had a cold one," Ryan admitted. "Weird really, it happened years ago in the building where Ian and Fleur live. But Montgomery said unless some new evidence turns up, there's no money in the budget to investigate it."

"There doesn't have to be money in the budget for the crack team of Beckett and Castle to pursue it," Rick pointed out.

"Tell me about it," Kate demanded of the detectives. "Better yet, give me the file."

Ryan shrugged and pulled a thick file out of a drawer. "You might as well have a look. Good luck."

As the faster reader, Castle looked over Kate's shoulder as she paged through a sheaf of reports. "Wow! The murder wasn't just in the same building where Ian and Fleur live, it was in the next apartment."

"That's right, but according to this, even though there were signs of a struggle, no one heard anything. From what Fleur's told me that would have been very unlikely. She's desperate to keep from being overheard by the neighbors. Even for New York, something doesn't fit."

"Then perhaps we can check the place out, and while we're at it, pay a friendly visit to Ian and his lovely bride," Castle suggested.

Kate laughed. "I knew you'd jam a visit in there somehow."

* * *

Having dropped Amelia off with Martha, Castle eyed the door of a slightly decrepit apartment. "So, this is where it happened. A woman was stabbed and had her ears cut off, and no one heard a thing."

"That's right," Kate agreed. "A chair had been overturned, and a lamp was broken. The victim, Vi Lister, fought back. But there were signs of adhesive around her mouth as if it had been taped shut. When our killer took his trophies, she might not have been able to scream."

"Still, she probably struggled against that too. It doesn't make sense."

"Let's go next door and deliver your offerings to the kids," Kate suggested. "While we're there, we can judge just how much could have been heard through the walls."

Castle pointed to the cooler he'd carefully packed with egg creams and deli. "Savory sups and nostalgia. What could be more welcome?"

As Ian let him into the Clary-Castle apartment, Rick couldn't help but notice the John Legend drifting in from one direction and the grunts accompanying a workout coming from the other. He inclined his head toward the music. At least your neighbors have good taste."

"Most of the time," Ian acknowledged, "but sometimes they play Adele at night and Fleur gets a little depressed. She texted me that her class ran long today, but she should be home any minute."

"The two of you have a busy life" Castle observed, glancing over at Ian's workstation and the textbooks filling the bookcase that had been in Ian's room at the loft.

"We do OK," Ian said. "But Fleur is doing a special project. There's an internship opening up in the office of the French ambassador to the United Nations. She really wants it, but she has to compete for it. She works on it while I do my thing for Dark Force. But we try to have breakfast and dinner together and…" Ian reddened.

Presenting the cooler, Castle clapped his son on the shoulder. "I get the picture. At least she can come home to some fun food. Now, what can you tell me about your neighbors, especially whoever lives in 2B?"


	70. Chapter 70

Ian 2

Chapter 70

"2B is the manager's apartment," Ian replied. "It's free to whoever is willing to take the job, students mostly, from what I heard from the guy who lives there now. He's a double major, kinesiology, and Phys. Ed. That's why he works out all the time. From what the previous manager told him, the owner has had trouble renting out that apartment for some reason. Something happened there, but I don't know what." Ian noted Kate and Rick exchanging looks. "But I think you guys do."

Castle nodded at Kate. "There was a murder there," she explained.

"It's our latest case," Castle added. "A cold case, really."

"That's kinda cool, I guess," Ian responded. "But do me a favor and don't mention it to Fleur unless you have to. She was so shaken up by what happened in the park last Thanksgiving; I don't think it will help to know she's living next door to another murder scene."

"Gotcha," Castle agreed. "but we both chose strong, brilliant women, I think Fleur can handle anything that's thrown her way."

"I know she can," Ian agreed. "I just don't want her to have to."

"You have your father's protective gene," Kate observed.

Castle heard footsteps from the hallway. "I believe that is your bride now."

"Rick, Kate," Fleur greeted her visitors.

Ian wiggled an eyebrow and held up the cooler. "They've come bearing gifts."

" _Merci bien_!" Fleur exclaimed. "I was waiting all morning to see an aide at the French Consulate, and I had to skip lunch to make class on time. But Ian didn't tell me you were coming."

"My fault," Castle apologized. "He didn't know until just before we came. Mother is furthering Amelia's thespian education, so we thought we'd drop in and see how you kids are doing."

"I'm glad you did," Fleur said as Ian put the cooler in the kitchen and began to set the table. "Kate, I found some fabric for the drapes we talked about. I haven't bought it yet. I just took a swatch to think about. I'd like to show it to you."

"Of course," Kate agreed.

"You and Ian seemed to have achieved domesticity," Castle commented as Fleur retrieved the sample from her tote bag."

" _Maman_ sews," Fleur explained. "Her _mère_ taught her, so she started teaching me when I was little. She wanted to be sure I knew how to take care of myself. I made clothes for my dolls. When Ian and I are ready, I'd like to be able to make things for _mes enfants_."

"That's sweet," Kate said. "My mother couldn't sew on a button. My dad and I learned in self-defense."

Fleur shrugged. "I'm sure she had other talents. _À chacun ses goûts_."

Castle put his arm around Kate's shoulders. "She gave me my wife. That had to be the biggest talent of all."

Unloading the cooler, Ian rejoined the conversation. "Who wants potato salad?"

Castle sighed in anticipation. "The mustardy heat for my soul."

* * *

Kate and Rick laid out the file on Vi Lister between them at the table in the loft. "Have you noticed how closed-mouthed everyone the police interviewed was?" Castle queried. "New Yorkers may be blasé, but once you get them started talking, it can be hard to stem the flood. No one in these interviews had much to say about Vi Lister at all; it's like they were afraid of something."

Kate caught the tip of her finger lightly between her teeth. "You're right. It is unusual."

"And her ears were cut off," Castle added. "We've been assuming that they were a sick trophy, but maybe they were something else. Vi could have heard something she wasn't supposed to hear. In that building, it wouldn't have been hard. The killer cut off her ears as a message."

"You could be right," Kate allowed. "But a message to whom about what? We need to check out who lived in 2A and 2C at the time Vi was murdered. Maybe someone there had something to hide that will lead to a motive."

"Sounds like the time for some keyboard-based sleuthing," Castle suggested, wiggling his fingers as if he was typing.

Kate patted his cheek. "And who do I know with nimble fingers?"

Castle grinned at her as his eyes widened. "Are we still talking about the case?"

Kate ran her hand up his thigh. "For now."

* * *

Castle frowned over his laptop. "Hmm."

"What?" Kate asked.

"Vi's neighbor in 2C has almost no history. There's a record that he lived there, but almost nothing else."

"As if he'd taken on a new identity?" Kate speculated.

"Exactly." Castle agreed. "Maybe it goes down like this." Castle gazed at an imaginary scene. "Vi is listening to the tidbits coming through the walls, a lot more enthusiastically than Fleur and Ian do. Perhaps she hears a visitor call our killer by his real name. She checks him out and discovers that he's in hiding, guilty of some terrible crime. She confronts him. Ooh or better still, she doesn't. He's a thief, with a stash of cash hidden somewhere until he can spend it without getting caught. Vi is tired of her tiny apartment. She wants to move up. But for that she needs money. She sees her neighbor in hiding as the way to get it. Maybe she's leaned on people for money and favors after she's eavesdropped about unsavory secrets before. She sends the thief an anonymous blackmail note, but he finds out who she is. He decides to go after her. He's in the apartment on one side; he doesn't have to worry about the sound coming through his wall. He watches and waits for the tenant in 2A to leave, for work or school. He breaks into 2B and goes after Vi with a knife because a shot could be heard in either the apartment above or below. She tries to fight him off. The chair gets overturned, and the lamp is broken. But he's too strong for her. He stabs her. And while she's dying, he tapes her mouth, so she can't scream. He cuts off her ears. It's almost impossible to tape someone's mouth with gloves on. If he had any, he would have had to take them off to do it. The tape would have had fingerprints. When she bleeds out and is either unconscious or dead, he pulls the tape off her mouth and takes it with him along with the ears. No one sees anything. No one hears anything. No one knows what happened."

"That's a great story, Castle. But if the guy in 2C was operating under an assumed identity, he probably has another one now. How do we find him?"

"Everyone has to fill out paperwork to get an apartment, Kate, even if they pay in cash. There would be a lease, maybe even a receipt for a damage deposit - with prints. Those records would be kept on file somewhere for years, for tax purposes."

Kate threw her arms around him and enthusiastically pressed her lips to his. "Then the lab should be able to pull up some latents. If our killer has a record, his prints should be in a database somewhere."

Castle pulled out his phone. "Our first step is to find out who keeps the leases. The way the managers come and go, they wouldn't be stored in 2B. But Ian's muscle building neighbor would be a great place to start."

"And while we're there, we might even see Ian and Fleur again."

Castle's lips curled upward in satisfaction. "My thoughts exactly."


	71. Chapter 71

Ian 2

Chapter 71

Mike Meklin stroked the stubble on his shaved head. "Investigating a cold case, like on TV? Outstanding. I don't keep leases here at all. I have applications for when an apartment opens up. That's usually in May or December. Then I send those to the owner. He picks a winner and sends me back a lease all filled out except for the new tenant's signature. I get it signed and send it back to him."

"Where do you send it?" Kate asked.

"I can give you the contact information." Mike went to a battered wooden desk and rummaged in a drawer. He pulled out a card and handed it to Kate. "You can keep this. I have more of them."

"Thank you," Kate acknowledged. "You've been very helpful."

"Mr. Castle," Mike asked tentatively, "I wonder if you could sign something for me. He took a pink gift bag, lined with hot pink tissue paper, from another drawer in the desk. He pulled out a copy of Frozen Heat. "I got this for my Grandmother's birthday. She loves your books. It would be really dope if you'd write something to her. Her name is Araminta."

"Of course," Castle agreed, and inscribed the book with "Love to faithful reader, Araminta, Richard Castle." He handed it back to Mike.

"Sweet!" the muscular grandson exclaimed. "Good luck tracking down your killer."

Kate giggled and rolled her eyes as the door closed behind them. "He's a real teddy bear, isn't he?" she whispered. "Faithful to his grandmother."

Castle shrugged. "Ian would do the same for my mother if she cared about getting my autograph. But I'm not so sure about Sheila. Not that she'd want an autograph from me. She says I write pulp. From what Kyra told me. Sheila's addicted to bodice rippers, although she'd never admit it. I can picture her, a goblet of red wine clenched in her hand, her hot breath, moist on the pages as she dreams of the man who will invade her refuge, sweep away her every doubt and take her to heights of pleasure of which she's never dreamed."

"Sounds like you've read a couple of bodice rippers yourself," Kate speculated.

"Only as research for Jameson Rook's sideline," Castle insisted. "And I could never condone a woman being taken under protest, whether the man is sure she doesn't mean it or not. But I am familiar with the genre." He knocked on the door of the Clary-Castle domicile, but there was no response.

Kate put a hand on his arm. "Sorry, Babe. You know how busy they are. They're probably both in class."

Castle nodded with a sigh. "It was worth a shot. At least we made some progress on the case." He checked his watch. "I can pick up Amelia and take her back to the loft if you want to follow up on the information we got from Mike."

"Thanks, Babe, I appreciate that. If I can get my hands on that lease, I can get Montgomery to authorize the lab to start on bringing the prints out. They could take a while to fume, and we'll have to eliminate any that don't belong to our killer."

"No problem," Castle said. "Amelia and I will have a good time. We have a common interest."

* * *

Amelia clutched her Thea Bear as she watched the spaceship fight its way out of the grip of the artificial gravity of the Star Trooper base. Castle was even more enthralled. After almost two decades his favorite, if short-lived, science fiction series had been rebooted in animated form. It made sense. The actors were older and had gone on to other shows but were able to fit the voice work into their schedules. There had been several canon books in between the movie that had tied up some of the loose ends of the series and the start of the cartoon version. Rick had devoured them all and was eager to see what would come next. Some things had to be toned down for innocent eyes, but the arc of the story was intact, and most aspects of the characters remained.

 _The brave crew of the Lotus was slammed against the bulkheads as the young pilot maneuvered through an asteroid storm to escape the pursuing Troopers. She finally guided the ship into a camouflaged cave on a barren moon._

 _"Good job, Torrent," Captain Colm exclaimed._

 _Torrent's long hair whipped around as she turned to him. "I know."_

 _"We can't stay here long, Colm," First Officer Wray pointed out. "The Troopers will realize they missed us and double back."_

 _"I ken that," the captain acknowledged, "But we can stay still long enough for Fiona to stick back any engine parts that fell off while we dodged the Blue Gloves. Soon as she does, and we conjure we're clear, we head for Dionysus. We made enough on this run to down a few there. Maybe even pick up something that isn't canned or dried, for a meal."_

 _Torrent closed her eyes. "Taffy, they have taffy on Dionysus. They make it from the water_ _that stings your tongue."_

 _"They do at that," Colm agreed, "and some very fine beverages."_

Amelia's tiny finger hit the pause button. "Daddy, what taffy? What befrage?"

"A beverage is a drink like milk or juice. Captain Colm means grown-up juice, like Mama and I drink." Rick explained. "Taffy is stretchy candy. They sell it near beaches, and sometimes people make it."

"Can we make it?" Amelia asked.

Rick couldn't say no to the eager look on Amelia's face. "If I can find a recipe on the web, we can try."

* * *

When Kate returned to the loft, she found Castle was washing the sticky strands of his daughter's hair. "You might want to avoid the kitchen," he cautioned. "We had a slight accident. We'll probably have to steam the floor."

"Taffy fall," Amelia explained brightly.

"I see," Kate replied. "I'm not even going to ask why you were making taffy. Is there any that didn't get on the floor or in Amelia's hair?"

Castle squared his shoulders. "I managed to rescue some. There is a plate of it on the counter. But now that you know about our day, How did yours go? Did you find the lease?"

Kate gazed upward, sighing and shaking her head back and forth. "In a way. I found the owner of the building. He told me that the lease is stored, but since it is more than a year old, it isn't on-site in his office. He and some of the other small real estate investors have gone together to rent a storage facility. It's in a bankers' box there somewhere. The boxes are just labeled by year. He said we're welcome to look for it and take it as long as we make sure he has a copy in case Uncle Sam comes around."

"Hmm, sounds like we're going to have a treasure hunt," Castle said.

Amelia wiggled out from under his fingers, to turn around. "Treasure hunt with pirates?"

"I don't know about pirates," Castle answered, "but we're going to try to find the clues that will lead us to a bad guy."

"Put bad guy in jail?" Amelia wondered.

Kate caressed the wet silk of her daughter's hair. "Daddy and I are going to try."


	72. Chapter 72

Ian 2

Chapter 72

Castle winced as the sharp edge of a cardboard file folder sliced through the thin nitrile of his glove and into his finger. "I can't believe how much paperwork these guys generated. But it's mostly credit and background checks on the potential tenants. Hell of a filing system! They're not even alphabetized, and the leases are stuck inside. This is less 'Treasure Island' and more 'The Paper Chase.'"

"I know," Kate sympathized, "but there are only a few more boxes for the year Vi was murdered. It the lease is here, we should find it soon."

Castle pulled out several legal-sized sheets stapled at one corner. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Our slasher's prints should be on this. And there's an application to rent the unit. A twofer!"

Kate pulled a bag from her pocket and held it out for Castle to drop in the evidence. "I'll get this to the lab."

"This calls for a celebration!" Castle declared. "While you do that, I can pick up Amelia and order in. What's your pleasure? Chinese? Pizza?"

"How about a hot dog?" Kate proposed.

Castle quirked an eyebrow.

"I meant from that new vendor who staked out a spot down the block from the loft. He has that spicy brown mustard and fire roasted tomatoes instead of ketchup."

"The woman wants it hot and juicy." Castle winked. "Got it!"

* * *

Kate waited impatiently at the lab. As a civilian, she couldn't log in evidence and the tech doing it was not the swiftest. It was 20 minutes before she made it out the door and her stomach was growling. To make matters worse, the vendor was not in his usual spot. She hoped Castle had a backup plan.

* * *

Fleur nervously scanned the projected path of the hurricane. Martinique was at the edge of the cone of probability, but a slight shift could put it right in Mariah's path. The text _Maman_ had sent said that she was prepared and not to worry, but Fleur's recent studies had included the devastation on other islands. Even if she'd chosen to live in the U.S. with Ian, she hated the thought of a catastrophe befalling the flower island of her birth. And she was still worried about her parents. But there was nothing she could do about it at that moment, except keep up with the news and pray for the best."

* * *

Rick, Kate, and Amelia devoured the foot longs he and his daughter had purchased at the market, together with the best substitute he could find for the absent vendor's mustard and tomatoes. Castle happily recalled their expedition. Amelia loved shopping, and Rick took the opportunity to teach her shapes, colors, and numbers, especially in the produce section. Amelia easily transferred the knowledge, pointing out the shades on brightly colored packages. Castle thoroughly enjoyed the process of teaching his daughter. His reverie was interrupted by the ding of a news alert on his phone. He frowned at the screen. "The hurricane is gaining strength. It's been upgraded from category three to category four. One of the models is predicting it might reach category five before it makes landfall. And it's beginning to look worse for Martinique."

"We were so involved with the case; I wasn't keeping up with the conditions in the Carribean. Do you think the Clarys will be all right?"

"I don't know," Castle said. "I hope so."

* * *

The bank was closed, and its windows had been securely covered with plywood. Roger Clary traveled through an outlying band of rain to get home to make sure the house he and Jacqueline shared was as secure as possible. The store shelves had been stripped of supplies, but he had wood stored in his garage and Jacqueline had already gathered bottled water, canned goods, and batteries. The island's one airport was closed except for emergency airlifts. He and Jacqueline would weather the storm in their home as best they could. He just hoped Mariah would keep on her present path and merely brush Martinique.

The rain was becoming heavier, and the trees were bending in the wind by the time Roger reached home. Jacqueline's face was grim when she met him at the door." _Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?_ " he asked.

"The storm has shifted. It is going to come ashore."

"When?" Roger demanded.

Even in the press of the humidity-laden heat, Jacqueline shivered. "Soon. _Dans une heure_."

Roger gathered her in his arms. "We have what we need. We'll be all right."

* * *

"Can you reach your parents?" Ian asked as Fleur stared at the screen of her phone.

Fleur's teeth dug into her lip. " _Non_. "

"The power is probably out," Ian said. "The cell towers wouldn't work. But you said they prepared. They are probably all right."

Fleur raked back her hair. "I want to go to church."

Ian nodded and took her hand. "I understand. I'll go with you. Maybe two prayers are better than one."

* * *

Kate and Rick surveyed the images on the big screen television. The hurricane had uprooted trees, thrown cars around like toys and flattened buildings. The reporter solemnly intoned that not only had the island lost power, but many of the roads were also blocked, making it hard to move emergency supplies. Several deaths had been reported from collapsed roofs and falling debris, and the casualty figures were expected to rise. Early estimates were that it would take years to rebuild what had been destroyed. Efforts were being concentrated on opening the airport so that the severely ill and injured could be airlifted to islands that had been spared the brunt of Mariah's fury."

"I've already sent money to the aid organizations, but I wish there were something else I could do," Castle said.

Kate laid her head against his shoulder. "We'll just have to be ready to do whatever we can."

"You're right," Castle agreed. "Suddenly unraveling a cold case doesn't seem so important. But at least it's a distraction until we get some news about the Clarys."

* * *

Face wet with tears that had replaced the rain, Jacqueline gazed around her home. During the worst of the storm, she and Roger had huddled beneath a mattress, even as the water rose. There were several inches of it covering the floor. The roof had held, but almost everything was soaked. The wood furniture might survive, and the photos and keepsakes she'd wrapped in plastic and put on the top shelf in the closet would be untouched, but even when the power came back on, it was doubtful the house would be habitable anytime soon, if at all. There had been announcements on their battery-powered radio. Much of the island was in a similar condition or worse. There were shelters, for those whose homes had been destroyed, but they were only a temporary solution. When they could leave Martinique, she and Roger would need a place to go. They'd talked about the part of his family that was left in France, but they were very far away, and she'd never met them. She wanted more than the comfort of strangers.

* * *

Castle checked the news-feed on his phone. "The airport is open now on Martinique, but only for emergency flights. There's a flotilla of boats headed that way to take people to islands where there are services. If the Clarys make it to one, they might be able to get a message to Fleur. I pray so."

Kate's eyes searched his expressive face. "Fleur hearing from her parents is not all you're thinking about, is it?"

"No," Castle admitted. "If the Clarys need a place to stay until they figure out how to get their lives together again, we could put them up here. We have more than enough room, and they're family. There's no reason we can't help."

Kate smiled and stroked his cheek. "You just reminded me why I love you."


	73. Chapter 73

Ian 2

Chapter 73

Kate scanned the email that appeared on her phone and went to find Castle in his office. His fingers were poised over his laptop, but he wasn't typing. He looked up. "Any news about the Clarys?"

"No, but I have a report back from the lab. Some of the prints on the lease and application belonged to the owner of the building. Some aren't in the system, but we have a thumb and a forefinger from a guy with a couple of convictions for theft. His name is Ray Burns. There's more on his rap sheet. He's suspected of ripping off one of those massive pawn shops they have in Vegas. Big haul of cash, gemstones, and collectibles. There's still a warrant out for his arrest."

"Any of those gems or collectibles turn up in New York?" Castle asked.

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd help me find out. I can take the gemstones, but collectibles are more your thing."

"Is there a list?" Castle asked.

"I forwarded it to you."

Castle brought up the document Kate sent, on his screen. "Amazing Spider-Man #12! Are you kidding me? Some poor nerd must have had really bad luck at the tables to pawn this. It's worth over 4K."

Kate wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and kissed the top of his head. "I knew you were my guy."

"I can't recall ever keeping it a secret," Castle quipped. "I doubt anything like that comic would be sold on the open market. It would attract too much attention. But I can put out some feelers to collectors I know to see if anyone heard anything about who might have acquired it."

"Thanks, Babe. And I'll let you know if I hear anything about the Clarys."

"As will I," Castle agreed.

* * *

Jacqueline Clary stood wrapped in Roger's arms as they watched the boats on the horizon. The sky was almost preternaturally clear. Had it not been for the wreckage surrounding them, it would have been as if Mariah had never come. They had very little to take with them to Guadeloupe where the was a fully functioning airport. Jacqueline had been able to dry some clothes in the sun, and she had the precious packet she'd taken such care to protect. Their legal documents had been in a safety deposit box at the bank, which was largely unharmed, and Roger had been able to retrieve them. At least they had their passports and access to their funds. There would eventually be insurance to rebuild the house or find another one. Roger had made sure of that. All of that would take time. The number of claims would be huge, and infrastructure would have to be put in place to handle them. Roger and Jacqueline felt they could wait. There was still not much communication on the island, but from what they had been able to find out, there were many who were a lot worse off and who needed more immediate help. Their first step once they made it to Guadeloupe, or even before if the ship had a satellite link, would be to assure Fleur that they were safe. After that, they'd figure out the rest.

* * *

Kate and Rick heard simultaneous alerts on their phones, of texts from Fleur letting them know that her parents were unhurt and on Guadeloupe, trying to plan their next move. Castle locked eyes with Kate, who nodded. He sent Fleur an invitation to transmit to the Clarys.

Castle skimmed through the friendly collector chatter on the email he'd received from Bo Zixler until the comic book maven came to the point. A couple of people had seen Amazing Spider-Man #12 flashed at Dragon Con in Atlanta. The man who offered it had not been a regular dealer, and they'd been skeptical of the authenticity of the book. The deal had seemed doubtful even with documentation of the issue's grade and provenance. They'd passed. One of them was an artist who'd been able to send a sketch he'd drawn from memory, of the man who'd offered the questionable acquisition. Castle opened the attachment and studied the image that appeared, while printing out a copy for Kate. It had been drawn more in the realistic style of Neal Adams, than some of the more cartoonish illustrators.

Kate and Rick compared the rendering of the would-be comic book seller that Castle received from Bo, to a printout of Ray Burns' mug shot. "Pretty close," Kate said. "I don't know if it would stand up in court, but it's enough to get Montgomery to put out a BOLO, especially since Burns has an outstanding warrant."

"You know," Castle said, "There is a new con in Chelsea coming up this weekend. Before Mariah hit, Ian and I were considering putting in a few father-son hours there. Do you think we have enough new development on the case to get Montgomery to authorize a stakeout?"

"I'm sure of it," Kate replied. "Clearing a case, especially one like this, will always look good to the brass at 1PP."

* * *

Jacqueline looked questioningly at her husband. "Stay with Rick and Kate? Can we do that?"

Roger shrugged. "Fleur is married to an American citizen. We shouldn't have any problem getting a temporary visa to stay with her father-in-law and his wife, especially under these conditions. We can check with the agency setting up emergency travel here - if you want to go back to New York."

Jacqueline's mouth threatened a smile. "It's a little early for snow there, but if we stay very long, I'm going to need another pair of those no-slip boots."

Roger touched the warm brown of her cheek. "I think we can manage that."

* * *

Esposito watched the line of costumed attendees filing patiently through the checkpoint outside Chelsea Con. "Look at those geeks! Who would want to dress like that?"

"Who would want to paint themselves team colors or walk around with a foam finger on their hand?" Ryan countered. "At least these guys don't set things on fire and turn over cars when whoever they're rooting for, wins. Besides, some pretty brilliant people come to these things. I heard the Woz shows up for some of them."

"Who?"

"You know, Steve Wozniak, co-founder of Apple. The one who did the tech stuff. I watched him on 'Dancing with The Stars.' He did a worm."

Esposito shook his head. "Sometimes I don't know about you, Bro."

"Hey!" Ryan pointed at a man looking extremely uncomfortable in a "Star Trek the Next Generation" command officer uniform. "I think that's Burns! A little older and the hair is longer, but I think that's him."

"You're right," Esposito agreed, reaching for the door of the car.

"You'd think a jerk who cuts off ears would at least dress like an Orion, instead of someone from Star Fleet," Ryan mused, as they strode quickly toward their quarry. "It would be more in keeping with his personality."

"Well he's going to be dressed like all the other dirtballs at Rikers pretty soon," Esposito declared, pulling out his Sig Sauer. "And no knife is going to make it at a gunfight."

"Bro," Ryan said, "he's not going to have a knife or a gun. They check bags for weapons at these things. They may be love fantasy, but they take real-world precautions. Let's just go get the guy."

"Sometimes it's just too easy," Esposito remarked.


	74. Chapter 74

Ian 2

Chapter 74

Burns prided himself on being able to smell cops. He'd noticed the car across the street from the Chelsea Con, but couldn't imagine how they could be at a con looking for him until they started across the street. He took off at a run, hampered by the spandex of the jumpsuit-like uniform. The cops were catching up to him fast when he ducked into a crowded coffee shop. He pushed his way to a back door exiting to an alley. It was separated from the building next door by a wrought iron fence. Cursing the chafing of the tight garment between his legs, he climbed the barrier. Quickly ducking into an unlocked door and latching it behind him, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a laundry room, but there was a stairway leading upward. He took it, stopping at every landing to scope out the floor. He spotted a gray-haired woman standing in the doorway of her apartment, bending down stiffly to pick up her newspaper. He rushed her, trying to force her inside.

"Sonofabitch!" Millicent Arngrim shouted as she kneed Burns in his already tender groin. Slamming the door of her apartment behind her, she secured all three locks and called the police.

"Easy, huh?" Ryan taunted Esposito as they searched the area around the coffee shop for their escaped quarry. The rising tone of an approaching siren reached their ears. Ryan turned to his partner. "You don't think?"

After a quick consultation with the uniformed officers from the marked unit, Ryan and Esposito joined them climbing the stairs to Millicent Arngrim's apartment. They encountered Burns gingerly descending the stairs toward them. He offered weak resistance as Esposito snapped the cuffs on him. The two detectives led their prisoner back to their unit while the uniformed officers continued up the stairs to interview Burns' nemesis.

* * *

Esposito smirked at Burns across the table in the interrogation room. "That's just embarrassing, man. Being taken down by an old lady. You belong in a nice safe cell. And we're going to put you in one."

"We got your registration records from the con," Ryan continued. "Convenient of you to give them your address. We searched your apartment. We found your hidey hole in the wall. You've been a bad boy. Stolen gems and more stolen comics you've been trying to pass off on unsuspecting nerds. But they're smarter than you thought, aren't they.? They know a crook when they see one. And maybe even a murderer."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Burns insisted.

Esposito leaned across the table. "Oh no? I suppose that it was a coincidence that you leased the apartment next door to Vi Lister - under an assumed identity. And that you disappeared not long after she turned up earless and dead."

"I want a lawyer," Burns demanded.

"You're gonna need one," Esposito returned.

* * *

Castle waited in the short-term parking lot at Kennedy Airport for the call from the Clarys, saying that they had arrived. He had rented a large SUV for the day to accommodate the family, except for Amelia who was with Mrs. Mays, while they went to pick up the refugees from Mariah's devastation. Ian held Fleur's hand as she shifted nervously in the third-row seat they'd occupied to leave the middle row for Jacqueline and Roger. Her cell phone dinged. They're here. "They're waiting outside baggage return."

"Then let's go get them," Castle replied, starting the car.

The Clarys didn't have much luggage. They'd been able to pick up a few things on Guadeloupe to supplement what Jacqueline had rescued from their storm-ravaged house. Kate handed one of her extra coats to Jacqueline as a barrier against the fall chill, and Ian gave his father-in-law one of his jackets.

"Did you eat on the plane?" Castle asked as he steered his way through the mass of airport traffic. "We can stop at a restaurant on the way to the loft if you're hungry."

"We're fine," Roger insisted. "The flight attendants were most attentive. It was a special flight. We weren't the only ones fleeing the effects of the storm. There's a church that is sheltering several families that arrived with us. Some were being aided by a mosque and a synagogue as well."

"Nice to know people are stepping up," Castle said. "Do you need anything else before we get to the loft? Toothbrushes? Hairbrushes? New York pretzels?"

Jacqueline smiled at the last offer. "Rick, you and Kate are doing more than enough. Roger and I just want to spend some time with Fleur and Ian. And seeing how Amelia has grown will be lovely."

"Amelia is amazing," Ian announced with pride. "She hardly even blasts anymore except for the voice my grandmother tries to teach her to use when she gives her acting lessons."

"Yes, my mother is still convinced that Amelia is meant for a life in the theater," Castle confirmed.

Roger nodded. "I remember Martha as quite determined. But Kate, are we taking you away from a mystery?"

"Not exactly," Kate explained. "Rick and I were working on a case. We believe the right suspect is in custody, and he'll stand trial for another crime. We still need more evidence to charge him with the murder we believe he committed, but right now we're out of leads."

Ian cleared his throat, anxious to steer the conversation away from the killing in the adjoining apartment. "Fleur just found out some exciting news this morning."

" _Qu'est-ce que c'est_?" Roger asked.

"It's not news yet, really," Fleur said. "I haven't won the competition, but I'm a finalist for the internship in the ambassador's office."

"And even if she doesn't get it, she'll be at the front of the line for one at the French Consulate," Ian added.

"Ce sont de bonnes nouvelles," Roger exclaimed. "Very good news."

Jacqueline squeezed her husband's hand. "Our flower blooms."

* * *

"Hey, man, take the win." Ryan counseled.

"What win?" Esposito demanded. "We're homicide detectives. We don't hunt down thieves; we hunt down murderers. We got one, but we can't prove it. And in the meantime, Burns is going to be extradited to Nevada for ripping off the pawn shop. He might never go down for the murder."

"There's a chance he didn't commit one," Ryan reminded him. "We have the theory Castle and Beckett put together for the crime, and it fits, but we don't have any proof."

Esposito's eyes flashed. "It doesn't help that we can't find the evidence from the crime scene. What the hell were those fools in the archives doing, losing boxes like that?"

"I suppose you've never lost anything," Ryan responded. "Seems to me I remember when you were distracted by, what was her name, Tracie?"

"Casie," Esposito corrected. "Oh, she was fine!"

"And somehow after interviewing her, you forgot where you put the bag with that receipt Lanie found on a body. Good thing we didn't need it. It was stuck to your shoe, a month after the perp pleaded out."

"I still don't know how that happened," Esposito admitted. "But this is different. That box had everything that wasn't in the file. I hate to admit it but if Beckett and Castle could look through it, they might be able to come up with something to nail Burns before we have to turn him over." Esposito checked his watch for the time. "Shift's almost over. I could use a beer. Coming?"

Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, Sure. Why not?"


	75. Chapter 75

Ian 2

Chapter 75

" _Vraiment_?" Roger asked over breakfast at the loft. "They can't find the box with the evidence for your case?"

"Sad but true," Castle confirmed.

"The clothes the victim was wearing should be in there," Kate added, "along with anything else CSU or the original team thought was relevant from the crime scene. DNA techniques have improved a lot over the past few years. Even if the lab couldn't come up with a match for our killer then, that doesn't mean they couldn't now. Or there might be some other clue that was missed, now that we know who our suspect is."

"Over the years we've had problems with lost records at the bank, particularly paper ones," Roger mused. "Sometimes they were found years later when someone was searching for something else because they had been misfiled. People mistake names or reverse first for last. We had one clerk who was particularly good at locating lost files because she'd sit down and figure out all the variations of a name or a number, and then that's where she would look."

"That could help," Kate mused, looking across the table at Rick. "Babe, you're the one who loves doing word puzzles. I can get Montgomery to authorize a trip to the archives for us if you have the time to go with me, while Amelia is in school, this morning."

"Don't worry about Amelia. Roger and I can collect her from _préscolaire_ and look after her while you and Rick do your search," Jacqueline offered.

"That's very kind," Castle said. "Kate and I can fill out the paperwork when we drop her off. The school won't release a student without it. There's too much chance of abduction."

Jaqueline shivered. "Oui, je comprends. There is much evil out there."

* * *

"Kate, I found it!" Castle proclaimed triumphantly. "Someone filed it under V instead of L, which put it in a completely different section."

Kept at arm's length by the box he held, Kate was only able to respond with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Great! Let's get it out of the dust, put some gloves on and see what we've got."

Kate used the large table in the anteroom outside the archives to lay out the contents of the box. There were blood-stained clothes, preserved in a paper bag rather than plastic, to prevent condensation that might promote bacterial growth. "If the killer left some DNA, the lab might be able to separate it from Vi's now," Castle noted. "Oh wait, what's that? It looks like the core from a roll of tape."

"We know the killer used tape, Castle," Kate pointed out. "The adhesive was found on her mouth. You made that part of your story."

"I know, Castle acknowledged, "but the lab was unable to identify the type of tape because that adhesive was used on a lot of them. That core has a brand name on it and a UPC. We should be able to get more out of that. When people find something that works for them, they tend to stick to it."

"Right," Kate agreed, "even if the tape was purchased too long ago to trace it, or was too common to trace. Ryan and Espo, searched Burns' apartment. There might have been another roll of it there. That would be a connection to the crime. But unless we get the DNA, it would still not be enough. And a smart lawyer could argue that since Burns and Vi Lister lived next door to each other and probably used the same laundry facilities, it would be possible that she could have some of his DNA on her anyway. We need something else."

How about that?" Castle asked, pointing to a tiny chip inside an evidence bag. "It looks like it was lost from a piece of jewelry. Maybe Burns took a shine to something he stole from the pawn shop. Ryan said Burns was wearing a pinky ring with his Star Fleet uniform. An insult to the art of cosplay, if you ask me. But obviously, Burns likes trinkets. If he still had this one…"

"And the lab makes a match," Kate continued, 'that should be enough to convince a jury. A thing like that couldn't have been in Vi's apartment unless he left it there. But it's a big if, Castle. Whatever that chip came out of, could have belonged to Vi."

Castle opened the file they'd brought with them and held up a photo of Vi Lister's body. She's not wearing any jewelry. Either she didn't have any, or Burns stole it. But either way, we have a clue."

* * *

Ian caught Fleur in his arms the minute she came through the door of their tiny apartment. "I just heard from Dark Force. They managed to pre-sell the merchandising rights to Riton, based on the popularity of the Thor movies."

" _Je ne comprends pas,_ " Fleur said. "What does Thor have to do with Riton?"

"It's the whole mythology thing. Stories based on tales from other cultures, they're very big now, even for kids' shows. Riton is perfect because he is not only a hero who fights against the evil of his kind, but he's exotic and different. The toy companies, even the fast food companies, are betting that he'll sell, big time. They're even talking about a Riton sandwich or salad, something with a creole angle. And while they sell it, they'd be licensing images of Riton for cups and maybe even Riton toys for kids' meals. Even if the craze only lasts for a couple of months, we'd at least get a bigger place to live out of it. Maybe a lot more."

Fleur's gaze shifted to a view projected by her imagination. "A place to raise _nos enfants_."

Ian tucked her against his body. "It could happen."

* * *

" _Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y danse_ ," Amelia trilled as she pirouetted across the floor to her parents.

"I see you're dancing, Sweetheart," Castle said.

"I taught her the song," Jacqueline explained. "She learns very quickly."

Kate nodded. "She does. I guess it's normal at that age. She's picked up some French from Fleur too."

"Where's Roger?" Castle asked. "We wanted to thank him. He was right about misfiling. We found the evidence box."

"He's on the phone with the bank in Martinique," Jacqueline replied. "It will be reopening next week. He is supervising some matters from here. But we will have to return soon. They will be providing us with temporary housing. His people there told him that mold is growing in many houses, including the one we left behind. They may have to be demolished and rebuilt."

Castle nodded. "Yes, I remember that happened to many homes in New Orleans after Katrina."

"The Bank of Martinique will be handling much of the financing for the projects," Jacqueline explained. "Roger is the one to tell you about that since he will be in charge."

"It sounds like a huge undertaking, but I can't think of a better man for so vital a job," Castle said. "If your time in New York is short, it should not be wasted. When Roger gets off the phone, we should figure out an itinerary that will allow you to make the most of it. If I know my mother, she has an in to get you tickets to see at least one show on Broadway before you leave. And there are some new restaurants, and much more you may not have seen before."

Kate smiled at the enthusiasm on her husband's face at planning new adventures, even if they were for someone else. Jacqueline caught her eye, responding with a tiny nod. " _Oui_ , Rick. _Merci bien_."


	76. Chapter 76

Ian 2

Chapter 76

"I'm going to miss _Maman_ and Papa," Fleur said. "When they left before, I made a choice to stay with you, but this time I thought they might be here for a while and I was looking forward to it. _Maman_ and I are getting along so much better now that she's decided you are not some _dorlis_ who wanted to sleep with me and take off into the night. There's a lot I wanted to talk to her about. Papa, too. Banking is a big part of international relations and how countries interact with each other. There are some things we've never talked about before."

Ian cupped her face in his palm. "We could go see them after things get straightened out more from Mariah. We could go at the end of the term before your internship would start. I can take some time away from Dark Force. Or we could even go for Christmas or spring break if we don't have assignments to work on over the holiday. Martinique is not that far away, and my father has an agent who is good at tracking down good deals on travel. He might even be able to get us space on a charter that's going to the Caribbean. He's done that for Dad sometimes when he and Kate wanted a getaway."

Fleur stretched up to plant a kiss on his lips. "That would be _magnifique_!"

* * *

"Did you get the results from the lab?" Castle asked filling cups of coffee for himself and Kate.

"Um hm," Ryan just emailed them to me. "There were traces of Vi's DNA. That chip fits a ring they found in a drawer in Burn's apartment. He sent a picture." Kate held up her phone.

Castle stared at the screen. "Not exactly the height of good taste. I guess no one ever explained to Burns about less being more. But it is the kind of thing they sell in Vegas to people who want to display their winning ways. Then I guess the pawn shop would get it when a lucky-streak went south. How about the tape?"

"They found a roll of that, too. Same brand. It doesn't mean much, but it does add a little to the evidence against Burns. We have more than enough for an indictment, and probably a conviction too if the D.A. is on his game."

"Great! That will leave us with one less thing to occupy our thoughts when we go to the theater with the Clarys tonight for their last big New York experience before they return to Martinique. I've wanted to see this musical ever since I saw the movie. Whoever thought an indie picture would make it so big?"

"It had some good actors in it," Kate noted. "I especially liked the guy who played the doctor."

"I was more into the piemaker myself," Castle said leaning in to sniff Kate's freshly shampooed hair. "But then you know how much I love cherry goodness."

* * *

Fleur kissed her parents goodbye, and hugs and handshakes were exchanged all-around before the Clarys made their way to the security screening line at the airport. This time Amelia was with the group, looking sadly at the departing backs of her erstwhile French tutors. Castle hefted her in his arms. How about a nice family dinner?" He suggested. "We could go to the place with the great macaroni, where the opera students come and sing at the tables. We could request something from Carmen. At least that's in French."

Amelia's face brightened. "Macaroni and cheese?"

"I think the restaurant can manage it," Castle replied.

* * *

 **Three Months Later**

Ian pulled at his tie. At least he didn't have to wear a tuxedo at the unveiling of the first Riton cartoon, but he was never comfortable in a suit. He and Fleur walked the red-carpet arm in arm with cameras clicking. He was sure that the best pictures would be of her. Except for their wedding, he couldn't remember her looking more beautiful. The event wasn't A-list enough for a designer gown, but Fleur and Kate had gone shopping together and found something wonderful. She glowed in sapphire blue. Kate had loaned her a matching necklace and earrings for the evening, and Ian could barely keep his eyes off her.

Riton would not be the only animated creation showing that night. The film festival would feature a number of animated shorts. Much as he was looking forward to getting home to strip the gown from Fleur's smooth shoulders, Ian was interested in studying the techniques employed in all of them. Comparing them might even make an interesting project for SVA. He wouldn't be able to take any notes but mental ones, but he might be able to see the shorts again once they had been released or study other examples of the animators' works. He settled back in his seat to watch, Fleur's hand clasped in his.

* * *

Castle scanned the review in the entertainment section. Unlike some of the scathing commentary about Baby Blaster dolls, Riton was being hailed as a character both new and exciting. Of course, the sexual aspects of the myth had been removed for the sake of a young audience, but Riton's rescues of humans from other perils from his kind were popular. The style of the character was perceived as charming and endearing. Castle thought that was much how many people had described Ian. Fleur's influence could be seen as well in both the culture of the human characters and the authentic details of the locale. Castle could feel his chest expanding. Ian and his bride had a hit. Ian was ahead of where Rick had been at his age before _In A Hail of Bullets_ had been published, and Castle did not doubt that his son and Fleur were both on their way to great things. He just hoped that Ian wouldn't meet with the pain that had overcome Rick, just when his life should have been at its zenith.

When Castle had Ian's DNA analyzed, he had asked the lab to look for any markers for cancer that might have been inherited from Kyra. They found none. That had been reassuring. And Fleur's parents were both healthy. Despite that, he knew all too well, as Mariah had demonstrated, that disaster could strike at any time. He shook himself. The Clarys were fine. The kids were fine. It was just his author's bent to look for a worst-case scenario. What he needed was to start a new chapter. He'd left Nikki Heat in deadly peril, and it was preying on his mind. Nikki had too much Kate in her for him not to be anxious to pull her from the arms of danger. He needed to proceed with the rescue.

He rose from his chair, and the scintillating shapes heralding oncoming pain appeared at the periphery of his vision. He knew that within a few minutes his sight would be obscured too much to see the screen of his laptop, and then the headache would descend. Damn! It hadn't happened in a while, and he'd hoped he was past migraines. At least he'd had no intention of immediately getting behind the wheel of a car. He could fight off the worst of the attack with medication he kept handy. Kate was visiting with her father. He didn't want to disturb her. He just hoped he'd be clear before he had to go pick up Amelia. He pulled out his phone to make an appointment with a car service just in case.


	77. Chapter 77

Ian 2

Chapter 77

Amelia gazed at the depth of the grooves pain had etched in her father's face. "Daddy sad?"

Castle ran a hand over the comforting silk of her hair. "No. Just a little headache. It's getting better. But look, we're doing something new today. See that car?"

Amelia bounced on the toes of her pink sneakers. "That's like the one I saw on YouTube. Ian and Fleur went to see Riton in it."

"That's right," Castle said, "and we can ride home in it."

When Arthur Seacrest saw the child clinging to Richard Castle's hand, he couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible. It was Lizzie. The eyes, the hair, even the way she bounced when she walked was just like his daughter. But that couldn't be. She had gone to the arms of the angels months before. Or maybe everyone just lied to him. Maybe she hadn't died. Maybe she'd been stolen for the rich man leading her toward his car. Maybe this was God's will. The devil had stolen what was most precious to him, and now she had returned. Thoughts spun through his brain as he wondered what to do. He couldn't lose Lizzie again.

Castle settled Amelia into the child seat in the back of the limo then sank into the soft leather seat beside her, closing his eyes against the painful intrusion of the lights of the city. A few moments later, he felt Amelia tugging at his sleeve. "Daddy, where we going? Not the way home."

Castle forced his eyes open. Amelia was right. The limo was headed in the opposite direction from the loft. "Driver," he squinted at the ID on the dash, "Arthur, we need to go back to 425 Broome Street."

"You took my daughter from me," Arthur accused. "And now Lizzie, I'm taking you home, to our home. Don't try to get out," he warned Castle. "The doors are locked from here."

"Not Lizzie," Amelia protested. "Amelia!" She grasped the fabric of Castle's jacket in her fist. "Daddy!"

"He's fooled you," Arthur insisted. "You'll remember. When you are home with me, you'll remember."

Castle shifted in his seat to pull his phone out of his pocket. A gun lay hidden in a compartment in the center console. Arthur kept it against the possibility of a carjacking or threat to one of his passengers. He'd never had to reach for it. He'd hoped he would never have to. But he didn't hesitate to curl his fingers around the cold metal. He held it up so Castle could see it. "No calls to your thugs. Don't even move. You took my daughter, and if you try to stop me from getting her back, I will kill you."

More afraid that the car might crash or that a bullet from the crazy man at the wheel might hit Amelia, Castle raised his hands. "Not doing anything. Just don't hurt her."

"I would never hurt Lizzie," Arthur swore. "But I wouldn't think twice about hurting a filthy kidnapper like you."

* * *

Kate's key clicked in the lock of the loft. There were no lights when she pushed the door open. Castle should have brought Amelia home hours before. It was too cold for a trip to the park, but Rick might have taken their daughter for one of his combined shopping and instructional trips. Amelia had started picking out logos and brand names, and Castle was always enthusiastic to see what she knew and what else he could teach her. On a trip to the bathroom made more urgent by the temperature, Kate noticed an empty aluminum packet from Castle's migraine medication. Warning lights immediately flashed in her brain. The medication was pretty effective, but it still left Rick feeling nauseous and fuzzy for a few hours. It didn't make sense that he'd take Amelia on an outing. Kate pulled her cellphone from the pocket of her slacks. Rick didn't respond to a text or a call. Taking the elevator to the underground garage, she found the car still there, but Amelia's safety seat was missing. Walking up to the lobby, she queried Eduardo.

"Mr. Castle was picked up by a limo," the doorman reported. "he had Amelia's seat, but she wasn't with him."

"When was that?" Kate asked.

Eduardo stroked his jaw. "Around the time one of you usually goes to get her. Before lunch."

"And they never came back here?" Kate prodded.

Eduardo shook his head. "No, Ms. Beckett. Not that I saw. Mr. Castle didn't look that good. I thought maybe that was why he called for a car. Maybe they went to a doctor or something."

Even if Castle had decided to go to a doctor, Kate doubted that he would have taken Amelia with him. And he would have called her. Something was not right. On returning to the loft, Kate called the car service she and Castle used for gala events when they didn't want to cope with parking. The dispatcher confirmed that Castle had been picked up for what was supposed to be a round trip to Amelia's preschool, but the driver had never reported in, and the dispatcher had been unable to reach him. In her most authoritative cop tone, Kate requested the driver's name and a license plate number.

The preschool was closed, but Kate called the emergency number for the administrator, Mrs. Durbin. Kate could hear the tremble in the woman's voice as she told Kate she'd call her back as soon as she checked with Amelia's teacher. Kate's cell rang two minutes later. "Ms. Beckett," Durbin reported, "Amelia's teacher confirms that your husband came in a limousine and picked up your daughter. She didn't see anything that looked off."

Kate thanked her, her breathing quickening. She thumbed the icon for the Twelfth Precinct. Esposito picked up. "Javi, I need a favor," Kate explained. "Rick and Amelia are missing. They were in a limo from the Schermer Car Service, last seen at Learning Path Preschool, Fourth and Main. The driver's name is Arthur Seacrest. If I give you the plate number, can you put out a BOLO for me?"

"Kate are you sure Castle didn't just take her on one of his adventures?" Esposito asked. "They could be in a dead zone somewhere, like a nerd cave fighting goblins or something."

Kate fingered the empty packet still in her pocket. "Javi, I'm sure. Every instinct I have tells me that something happened."

"Alright, Kate. I'll do it," Esposito agreed. "But call me if writer boy and the munchkin show up."

"Yeah, right after Rick gives me an explanation good enough to keep me from making him go missing myself," Kate assured the detective.

* * *

Castle fought back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. "Don't hurt my Daddy!" Amelia yelled, her small fists flailing.

"Sweetheart, it's all right," Castle soothed. "We'll just go for a ride with Arthur and everything will be fine." Castle wished he was as sure as he wanted to make his daughter believe. He knew that Kate would figure out what had happened to him and Amelia. What Arthur was doing was clearly unplanned, the result of a delusion that scrambled his perception upon seeing Amelia. He'd left plenty of breadcrumbs for Kate and the cops. Castle just hoped they were followed before Arthur decided to do something worse with his gun than wave it at him.


	78. Chapter 78

Ian 2

Chapter 78

Amelia was not about to do what the bad man said. She refused to get out of her car seat. She only moved when Arthur pointed his gun at Castle, and even so, she wouldn't let go of her daddy.

In Arthurs half-made plan, he wanted to shoot Castle, or at least club him with his gun, and dump him somewhere, before taking Lizzie to his apartment. But the little girl was stubborn, like her mother. She always had been. When Arthur even came close, she beat him with her fist. When he tried to pick her up, she bit him. She'd even drawn blood. For a fraction of a second, he was tempted to hit her, but he couldn't. She had been the only joy in his heart, and she would be again. In the meantime he couldn't separate her from the lying bastard, she thought of as her father. And if he did shoot the man, he could lose Lizzie before he had a chance to win her back.

Castle's head was jarred, and his stomach clenched at every step up to Arthur's fourth-floor walk-up in an old building in Brooklyn. He did not doubt that Kate could track him there. If Arthur had been thinking straight, he would have chosen a no-questions-asked motel, but the man's thoughts were obviously completely consumed with Amelia. Even with a gun pointed at him, Rick could empathize. If he thought someone had taken Amelia or Ian, he wasn't sure he would have acted much differently. Still, because of his muddled mind, Arthur Seacrest was unpredictable. That made him deadly. Castle would have to grab the first chance he got to take Arthur down.

* * *

Kate picked up her phone before the ding for the text had died away. It was straight and to the point, from Esposito. "We found the car." She immediately called him to get the rest of the details.

"The cops in Brooklyn checked the neighborhood around Arthur Seacrest's apartment," Esposito explained. "Not the sort of area where you'd expect to see a limousine. It stood out. Ryan called Schermer, and they agreed to report it as stolen. We're working on getting a no-knock warrant to go after Seacrest. But with the chance that Castle and Amelia might be in the apartment with him, ESU is going to have to move very carefully. Schermer said there was a gun in the limo. If things go down wrong, Castle and Amelia could be caught in the crossfire."

"I'm going to Brooklyn," Kate declared.

"Ryan and I are going. We'll take you," Esposito offered.

* * *

Amelia stared at the microwaved cup of macaroni and cheese the bad man had set in front of her. It didn't look like what Daddy made. It didn't smell like it either. It was just yucky. But even if the man had given her ice cream, she wouldn't have eaten it. She didn't want anything from him. She wanted to be able to go home with Daddy.

Arthur had made Castle sit in a beat-up chair as far away from Amelia as he could be in the small apartment. Castle's wrists and ankles were taped, but Arthur had done it while holding on to his gun and Castle was not bound very effectively. Arthur had also used tape that Castle knew would tear if he could achieve the right angle. He'd just have to choose a time when Arthur was too distracted to reach him in time to keep him from getting loose. And Arthur would have to put the gun down some time; there was a limit to what a man could do one-handed, especially with a full bladder.

* * *

Esposito pointed upward. "Seacrest has an apartment on the fourth floor. There are a couple of windows to the outside and one to the airshaft. Ryan and some unis are making sure the neighbors are out of the line of fire. ESU is going to fly a drone up to get a view through the window to get the tactical layout."

"How long is that going to take?' Kate asked. "Seacrest could be doing anything to them in there."

"Just hang on, Beckett," Esposito counseled. "It will only be a couple more minutes."

Lieutenant Latimer studied the images on his screen. He was seeing through the eyes of a drone. He'd piloted it as close to the window as he could without the characteristic buzz alerting Seacrest to his presence, but his angle was too narrow to locate everyone who was believed to be in the apartment. He could see Amelia. She was looking across the room. He could just see an adult knee in that direction that he assumed was Richard Castle. Seacrest drifted in and out of view, a gun grasped firmly in his hand. His movements were random and unsure, and there was sweat on his chest and back. The nervousness of the man only made the gun in his hand more of a hazard. Anything that startled him could cause him to lose control. Latimer considered the use of tear gas, but there was a chance it might not take effect quickly enough to keep Seacrest from shooting. A flash bang was an option, possibly a last resort. While it would stun and blind Seacrest, it would do the same to his captives. Either way, with a prisoner as young as Amelia, there was a chance of doing her some serious harm. He would have to keep an eye on the situation until an opening developed.

"Hey Beckett," Esposito comforted. "The good news is that Amelia's all right. And there are signs that Castle is too. We can wait Seacrest out. Sooner or later he'll slip up."

"I appreciate that Javi," Kate said. "But waiting is the hardest thing to do. Doing something, anything would be easier."

Esposito nodded. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

Arthur had to go to the bathroom - bad. Castle was still taped to his chair, but he had no idea what to do with Lizzie. He didn't want to tie her up. He thought of taking her in with him, but it didn't seem right. And he couldn't just unzip fast. His stomach was in knots, and his guts were cramping. He'd have to make a choice soon, or his rebellious body would make it for him."

Castle had been watching anxiously for signs of Arthur's discomfiture, and he was certain he saw them. Slowly, he positioned himself for the right moment to free himself. It seemed to happen in both a wink of an eye and in slow motion. Arthur started for the door of the small bathroom and Castle strained against his bonds. Arthur turned back at the ripping sound, his gun training itself on Castle as if of its own accord. Amelia launched herself out of her chair, knocking hard against Seacrest's legs. His finger reflexively pulled back on the trigger, and a bullet scorched the air.

"Breech, all breech!" Lieutenant Latimer yelled into his walkie-talkie as members of an ESU squad that had been stationed in the hall charged into the apartment. Seacrest was knocked to his knees; his gun wrenched away as he was surrounded with a bristle of rifle barrels. As a squad member moved in to cover Amelia with his body, she struggled away to run toward the other end of the room. A sobbing plea exploded from her chest. "Please help my Daddy!"


	79. Chapter 79

Ian 2

Chapter 79

From where he was lying on the floor, Castle reached out to his daughter. "It's all right, Sweetheart."

Amelia clung unrelentingly to Rick while a member of ESU called for a medic. Kate rushed in, joining her daughter at Rick's side. A streak of red was spreading across his ribs. His blood-soaked hand reached for hers, even as the thumb and forefinger of the other one were clenched tightly in Amelia's small fist. "Kate, it's not that bad. Take care of Amelia," Castle urged.

Two paramedics ran into the apartment and straight to Castle. Kate wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Baby, these men are here to help Daddy. We need to give them room to work." Amelia allowed herself to be pulled back a few feet and held by her mother, but never took her eyes off Castle.

The paramedics staunched the bleeding, loaded Rick onto a stretcher and started for the door to make the journey down the worn staircase. "Mama, Amelia go with Daddy!" the little girl protested.

One of the paramedics looked back over his shoulder. "You could ride with him, but we can't take your daughter."

Kate squeezed Amelia tightly. "They'll take Daddy to the hospital. Uncle Javi and Uncle Kevin will take us too."

Amelia's seat was rapidly retrieved from Seacrest's limo, and Esposito drove with gumball and siren to catch up to the ambulance. Castle was already in Emergency when Kate arrived, and she and Amelia were forced to wait while the doctors did their job. It was a yearlong half-hour before a nurse called them to come behind a curtain to see Castle. His chest was swathed in white, but he smiled as he looked up at Kate who was carrying Amelia, her white face tracked with desperate tears. "See Sweetheart," he told his daughter. "I'm fine. The bullet just made a big scratch like you got when you tried to climb that tree at the park. The doctor sewed it up. It will go away just like your scratch did."

"Are they going to let you go home?" Kate asked.

"As soon as the paperwork is done. That will probably take longer than that doctor's stitch job. My phone is in the bag with my personal effects; they have it around here somewhere. Could I use yours to call Ian and tell him I'm all right, before he gets some jumbled story from the media?"

"Of course, Babe," Kate said, shifting Amelia on her hip so she could reach her pocket. "Ryan and Esposito are in the waiting room. We should let them know too."

Castle grinned as she handed him her phone. "Nice to know the gang's all here."

* * *

"You can't take Lizzie away from me," Arthur Seacrest wailed through the mesh of his holding cell. The police had told him that they were trying to find a clean pair of pants for him before he would be taken to a hospital. He'd heard them muttering about Belleview. He knew what that meant. They thought he was crazy. One cop, he thought it was a captain, had visited him and told him that he remembered when Richard Castle's wife - he called her Kate Beckett - had given birth to her daughter. He even acted sympathetic when he assured Arthur that the little girl was not Lizzie Seacrest, but Amelia Castle. Arthur didn't want to believe it. He sank uncomfortably to the metal bench in his cell, with his face in his hands.

* * *

Ian finished telling Amelia a fourth bedtime story, hoping to lull her to sleep, something at which Kate and his dad had no luck. He wasn't having much luck either. "Ian, Daddy hurt before?" Amelia asked.

Ian considered his answer for a moment before deciding to tell his sister the truth. He nodded, slowly. "Yes, before he married Kate. A man tried to shoot Captain Montgomery, and the bullet bounced off a file cabinet and hit Daddy. But they were both OK."

Amelia hugged her Thea Bear and chewed her lip. "Scared."

"I was scared too," Ian admitted. "I was afraid I could lose Daddy. And I was mad, really mad that someone could hurt him. I was scared and mad for a long time. But it doesn't help to be that way. It makes you sick. And it makes Daddy and Kate sad."

"How you not be scared?" Amelia asked. "I want to go to sleep, but I see the bad man."

"The police took the man away. He's locked up where he can't hurt anyone. But if you see the bad guy in your head, just go see Daddy. He won't mind. I used to do it all the time. Just remember that Daddy's here and he's OK. And we're all OK too. You wanna go kiss Daddy goodnight again?"

Amelia nodded.

Ian lifted his sister into his arms. "Then let's go do it."

* * *

"So, Arthur Seacrest is in the prison ward at Bellevue?" Castle asked when Kate brought him a tray with midmorning tea and some cinnamon toast. "Uh huh," Kate confirmed. "Ryan called to tell me and to check on you. The shrink doesn't think Seacrest is competent to stand trial - at least not yet. The guy still thinks Amelia was Lizzie. He doesn't understand that he did anything wrong. For the moment, at least, that meets the definition of insanity."

"I feel sorry for the guy," Castle said. "Losing a child could make a father crazy. I hope the doctors at Bellevue can help him. But for now, I'm glad we can keep reassuring Amelia that he's where he can't hurt anyone. What's she doing?"

"Watching 'Sesame Street.' Ian is with her. They share a real bond right now, more than just brother and sister. They've both had to live through having their father shot."

The teacup rattled as Castle's skin iced. "Wow! At least Ian didn't have to watch. I'd do anything for Amelia not to have seen that. I know that a child counselor who works with the N.Y.P.D. talked to her for a little while, but Amelia needs more help than that. Maybe the counselor can refer us to someone who specializes in this kind of thing. Oh God, Kate! Just the thought that someone would have to specialize in working with children who've experienced that kind of trauma is chilling."

Kate reached out to touch his roughened cheek. "I know. I've met a few of the counselors who work for the department. I'll give them a call."

"We want the best kid's shrink ever," Castle insisted.

Kate smiled, brushing back a strand of Rick's hair. "Or at least the best one in New York."

"You know, we might want to talk to Mother, too," Rick mused. "She's been involved in a project over the years in which children who have endured some horrendous experiences work them out through improvisational play. I think a couple of those kids even ended up on Broadway. But at least according to what Mother's told me, it has helped quite a few little ones through their fears. And with Amelia's thespian tendencies, it could at least be one way to go. Let's line up the shrink first and see what advice we get."

"Yeah," Kate agreed, kissing his forehead, "sounds like a plan."


	80. Chapter 80

Ian 2

Chapter 80

"How's your father?" Fleur asked as Ian shut the door of their tiny apartment and made sure the metal bar of the security lock was in place.

"He's healing," Ian replied. "He's having a little trouble typing on his laptop, so he's using voice recognition software. It's still pretty buggy, and some of the stuff it puts out is funny, but he's not laughing much. He's worried about Amelia. So am I. When my father was shot the first time, I was a teenager. At least I was able to understand what happened. That helped me cope with it - eventually. But Amelia doesn't understand anything. She just knows that someone tried to take her and hurt her Daddy and she just starts to cry, even if we're watching Cookie Monster. I've been trying to help her as much as I can."

" _Bien sûr_. You love your sister, and you want to make things right. That's part of what makes you the man I adore. You will make a great father."

Sticking two fingers under Fleur's chin, Ian tilted her face up, searching the dark depths of her eyes. "Fleur, are you trying to tell me you're pregnant?"

" _Non_. But _mon amour_ , we wait for everything. If it had not been for my parents having to return to Martinique, we would have waited to marry. That would have been because of the promise I demanded from you. That promise was wrong. I hated waiting, and I love being your wife. Now we wait for children. But we don't know what will happen tomorrow or even in the next minute. Your father could have been killed. Your sister could have been taken away forever. A storm could destroy our home. We want children; we should try to have them, while God grants us the chance."

"But what about school? What about your internship?" Ian asked.

"My internship is to prepare me to work, Ian, just as SVA will add to your skills. But there will always be some plan, something we'll want to get done. And babies do not always come at once. _Maman_ and Papa were married for six years before I was born. I want to try, now."

With a lopsided grin eerily reminiscent of Rick's, Ian stroked her cheek. "Right now? I don't suppose I could get a snack first. I might need all my strength."

Light radiated from Fleur's face. " _Bien_. We have pizza rolls in the freezer."

* * *

Amelia squirmed in a fuzzy beanbag chair where she sat opposite Dr. Linda Risen, sunk into more adult-sized but similar seating. "I want to go home. I want to see Daddy."

"You want to make sure your Daddy's OK?"

Amelia nodded wordlessly.

Linda pushed out of the form-fitting cradle of her seat, retrieving her phone from her desk. "Would you feel better if you could talk to him? We could call him."

"I want to look at him," Amelia insisted.

"I can arrange that," Linda replied, consulting the contacts list on her phone for Richard Castle's Skype username. She exchanged her phone for a tablet.

Castle's eyebrows rose in alarm as he heard the Skype alert on his phone. Kate had taken Amelia to see Dr. Risen. He'd wanted to go too, but lifting an apprehensive Amelia into his arms would put to much strain on his still tender wound, and he didn't want to have to say no if the little girl wanted to hold on to him when being taken to a strange place. The face on the screen matched the online profile of Dr. Risen he'd studied before he and Kate agreed to enlist her services to aid their daughter. "What's wrong?" Castle asked. "Is Amelia all right? Where's my wife?"

"Relax, Mr. Castle," Linda responded. "Amelia is fine, and Ms. Beckett is in my waiting room. Amelia just wanted to see you." She handed Amelia the tablet.

Amelia's small fingers curled tightly around the edge of the device. "Daddy."

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm fine. But you could help me feel even better if you'd talk to Dr. Risen. Can you do that for me? Please?"

Amelia looked up at Linda. "Can Daddy stay?"

"Sure," Linda agreed. "You can hold the tablet while we talk."

Castle smiled his encouragement as Amelia's gaze returned to the screen. "OK, Daddy."

* * *

"This is going to be tough, isn't it?" Kate asked Castle after Amelia had finally given in to exhaustion for the night.

"Amelia's one strong little girl," Castle said. "Takes after her mother. She'll get through it. So will we. What did Dr. Risen say about putting Amelia into Mother's program?"

"She thought it would be fine if Amelia is willing."

"I think she will be." Castle said. "Dr. Risen is a stranger. I can understand why Amelia would have a problem opening up to her. Mother may be strange, but a stranger, she's not. Besides, Marvelous Martha can talk almost anyone into anything. She's been bamboozling directors and producers ever since I can remember. I think she can coax Amelia into her theatrical fold. I just don't know how crazy she'll be about being called Grandma in public."

* * *

Ian stared at the ornate plaster ceiling that was a highpoint of the apartment he and Fleur shared. She was snuggled against his side. Their lovemaking had been tentative. Pills had given Fleur headaches, so he had been the one using protection. It had become part of their play, trying the different kinds that showed up in the drugstore and the lover's shops they had found online. Fleur was usually the one to lovingly slip on whatever they had chosen together. It felt strange to leave out that part of their ritual, strange and frightening.

Being a father would be a lot different from being a brother. He didn't think money would be much of a problem. What he and Fleur would get from Riton and his other work would be enough, even if they needed a bigger apartment. It would be everything else that would be complicated. If a baby were born while they were still in school, they would have to fit their classes around taking care of it. Then when they were out of school, Fleur would want to work. He could do a lot of his work at home, and he was more than willing to care for a child, the way his father had cared for him. But the way Fleur loved children, and from the way she was with Amelia, he knew that she'd want to do her share. And there would be the nursing too. He was sure Fleur would want to if she could. He remembered the chaos and sleeplessness in the Castle loft the first few months after Amelia was born. He couldn't fool himself that things with a baby would be easy. He knew they wouldn't be. But his dad always told him that every moment spent with him and every moment with Amelia was worth it, no matter what kind of bumps there were or would be on the road. Ian believed him. He wrapped his arms around Fleur, feeling the warm vibrancy of her life against his body. Whether they had a child in nine months or nine years, he could handle it. They both could. And whoever or whatever that child turned out to be; he would love it with every cell in his body.


	81. Chapter 81

Ian 2

Chapter 81

Ever since Grant Pearson's grandson had witnessed a robbery-shooting at a neighborhood store, the owner of the New Wonders theater had allowed it to be used for presentations by Impish Improvisations. The venue was not large, only 100 seats; and that early evening it was packed with families and friends of the little ones who'd learned the time-honored actors' tradition of using negative emotions to produce cathartic performances. A few members of the theater community who had an eye out for young talent were in the house, alert for a sign of the next Neil Patrick Harris or Jennifer Lawrence.

Martha herded her young troop into the wings. They wore only enough makeup to keep them from washing out under the lights and no costumes. Instead, there was a large trunk on the stage containing props, hats, jackets, and scarves they could use to make their characters come alive. Amelia was the youngest of the group, but the least nervous. Her grandmother put her through her acting paces often enough so that a theater was familiar and nonthreatening.

The audience settled as _Saint-Saëns's Carnival of the Animals_ was piped through the sound system, and several of the children made their entrances. One grabbed a firefighter's hat from the trunk to rescue a girl who had climbed a stool and was screaming for someone to rescue her from invisible encroaching flames. Vigorous cheers erupted from youngsters portraying witnesses. After the first group of players had left the stage, a preteen girl came out and wrapped herself in a length of blue cloth. She lay down on the stage, her hands reaching upward while she gasped for air. Two boys, one pantomiming a dog, pulled her from her azure sheath. The human of the pair pretended to give CPR until the girl rose to her feet and tossed the cloth into the front row.

When it was Amelia's turn, she portrayed her anguish while two of the oldest of the actors played a shooter and his victim. Other children rushed out grabbing the props they needed to portray doctors and nurses. They hovered over the fallen child who finally rose and walked offstage hand in hand with Amelia.

Castle didn't care that tears overtopped his lashes and streamed down his cheeks when a smiling Amelia joined the line of young actors taking their bows. The haunted look that had pinched her face was gone and the little girl who'd bounced across the floor had returned. Whatever pins his mother used to deflate his ego, he would forever be grateful to her for infusing joy back into his daughter.

There was no question that a celebration was in order. Castle had already reserved the banquet room of a nearby casual restaurant for his family, the IMPs, and anyone else who'd attended the performance who wanted to come. He'd be picking up the tab, but everyone would be ordering off the menu, so no pre-count of dinners was required. A rearrangement of tables to accommodate a few extra chairs was, but it wasn't long before the air buzzed with lively chatter.

Rick reached for Kate's hand as he watched his daughter enthusiastically stuffing animal shaped chicken tenders into her mouth, while Ian used a ketchup-soaked french fry to draw a bear on the edge of her plate. Fleur was putting her head together with Jim Beckett, who looked pleased by the conversation, but Castle had no idea what they were discussing.

* * *

Amelia's bedtime was the easiest one Castle could remember since delusion had seized Arthur Seacrest. She'd only needed one story, and her eyes had drifted shut before he'd finished it. Her arms were as ever, around her Thea Bear, but her grip had lost its desperate edge. Looking up with a silent prayer of thanks, he quietly left the room.

Kate stood in the kitchen holding a bottle of red wine. She glanced toward the two glasses sitting on the counter and sent him an inquiring look. Castle inclined his head. "Please." Rick strode the few steps to the fireplace and ignited the gas log. He gestured toward the couch. "Join me?"

Kate handed him a goblet filled three-quarters full of ruby liquid and nestled next to him with a mischievous smile. "Quite an evening."

"The best!" Castle replied.

Kate leaned in to nip at his ear. "Maybe not yet. It could get even better."

Castle gulped his wine. "I suppose anything is possible. What did you have in mind?"

"I thought," Kate proposed, trailing the tips of her fingers down his thigh, "we could stage an improvisational session of our own."

"And what would we call this adventure?" Castle queried.

"How about Once Upon a Mattress?"

"Ah, Marshall Barer's Tony-winning opus. I believe Mother starred in a revival or two." Castle put his wineglass on the table behind the sofa and pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to Kate. "I think we could both use a little revival ourselves."

* * *

"What were you talking to Mr. Beckett about tonight?" Ian asked as he drew Fleur against him beneath the colorfully appliqued bed-covering Jacqueline had sent from Martinique.

We were discussing what I want to do when I finish my degree. I don't want to just go to work in an ambassador's office or a consulate. I want to do something where I can help people, maybe refugees from natural disasters or authoritarian regimes find ways to make new lives for themselves. We were talking about NGOs, and how I might be able to start a new one. He's set them up before, in the United States and internationally. I might be able to get some help from Papa too, for the financing."

"That sounds like a great thing to do," Ian said, "but how would you manage it if you get pregnant? Or don't you want to anymore?"

Fleur snuggled against him. "That's one of the things I was thinking about. I want our children to grow up understanding that it is important to help others. And if I set up the organization, I won't have to worry about trying to work under outdated regulations. If I need to have a baby with me, I can do it. If I am just doing paperwork or making calls, I can do that as well at home as in an office. With help from Mr. Beckett, Papa and you, I believe I can make it work."

Ian kissed her temple. "You'll have my help with anything you want to do. And I have faith that if you put your heart into making something happen, it will. Other than the obvious, like diaper duty, if we do have a baby, how can I help?"

"I'm not sure yet. People who've been stripped of everything they own, especially children, will need so much. I have a long way to go to work out the details and a lot of research to do. I'm not sure when I'll be ready to start putting the plans together, but I know you'll be a part of them, and you'll be wonderful."

Ian turned to face her, incredulously running his hands over the dark satin of her skin. He pressed his lips to hers. "No one could ever be as wonderful as you."


	82. Chapter 82

Ian 2

Chapter 82

Two Years Later

Even engulfed by her voluminous graduation robe, Fleur's baby bump was not hard to discern as she mounted the podium to receive her honors emblazoned diploma. The Clarys had flown in from Martinique to spend two weeks attending this event, and others that were cause for celebration that week. They sat proudly in the audience with Rick, Kate, Martha, Jim, and Amelia, who was trying her best not to squirm.

Ten days earlier, the same family group, with the abrasive addition of Sheila Blaine, had observed Ian's commencement. Sheila's disapproval of Fleur's condition had been obvious, but fortunately, she had departed immediately after the ceremony, shoving a graduation card with a small check inside into Ian's hand before she left. Ian immediately announced to the chortles of the rest of the family that the money would be used to purchase baby clothes.

When the speeches were over, Fleur and her cheering session retired to the Castle loft, where Jacqueline and Roger had been welcomed to stay by Rick, Kate, and Amelia. A feast had already been prepared, requiring only some reheating and final flourishes. Jacqueline had been especially enthusiastic in contributing to the spread with a dish for which she'd gauged the freshness of the main ingredient herself, at New York's famous Fulton Fish Market. Amelia had teamed up with Ian to bake cookies utilizing the newly released Riton cookie cutter. Amelia also proudly drank from a special issue Riton cup and had stowed Riton fuzzy slippers under her bed.

"So, Jim," Martha began the dinner conversation, as dishes were passed around the heavily laden table, "tell us about the work you've been doing with the international partners on Fleur's Refuge from the Storms organization."

"It's going very well, Jim reported. "A group from France was the first to sign on." He nodded at Roger Clary. "We have you to thank for that."

Roger shook his head. " _Ce n'était rien_."

"It most definitely was something," Martha interjected.

"Yes, it was," Jim agreed. "We've had organizations from several other countries sign on since then, mostly from Europe, but there's one from South Korea that has become involved as well. We expect them to be particularly helpful in providing technology like cell phones to facilitate communication."

"Outstanding!" Castle commented. "And if I can help in any way, you'll let Kate or me know?"

"You've already helped a great deal, Rick," Fleur said. "After you wrote RFTS into your last book, we received inquiries and donations from all over the world."

"RFTS is going to be featured in an episode of Riton," Ian added. "The actor who voices him will be doing a PSA afterward, giving the website. That should attract a lot of attention too."

"Speaking of attracting attention, aren't you and Fleur doing the red-carpet tomorrow night for the release of the Riton DVD?" Rick asked.

Fleur smiled, shaking her head. "If Maman can help me let my dress out again. I thought with that design, it could flow over anything, but Olympe had other ideas."

"After you told us what you are going to name the baby, I read up on Olympe de Gouges," Kate said. "What an amazing woman she was, advocating for both improving conditions for the slaves and for women's rights. I'd never heard of her before. I didn't even know there were women playwrights in the 1700s."

"She's part of the history of French colonies like Martinique," Fleur said. "I discovered a book about her when I was 13, and she's been a heroine to me since then. I'm glad Ian is willing to go along with the name."

Ian squeezed her hand. "I think it's a great choice. I look forward to seeing our daughter live up to it."

* * *

The grand ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton in Battery Park had been reserved for the release party of the Riton DVD. Since Amelia's unfortunate abduction by the still hospitalized Arthur Seacrest, the Castle family had avoided limousines. Ian and Fleur arrived in a cab amid the stream of fancier conveyances. He helped her out and tucked her hand into his elbow to make their way as quickly as they could through the gauntlet of clicking cameras.

Once inside the hotel, he presented their invitation, which had been embossed with an image of their heroic dorlis, and security ushered the couple into the affair. Fleur wobbled a bit as they made their entrance. Ian immediately put a supportive arm around her. Are you all right?"

Fleur nodded. " _Bien_ , but could we sit down? I think Olympe knows we're at a party. She's trying to dance, and my back is a little sore."

Ian assumed an expression he'd seen his father use to part crowds when Kate had been pregnant and steered Fleur to a table where several people were already sitting with offerings from the open bar. "You want me to get you a water?" Ian asked.

Fleur shook her head. " _Non_. I just want to sit for a little while."

"OK," Ian agreed.

Mack Richards took his place behind the podium and cleared his throat. "When Dark Force decided to start a junior bullpen, we didn't know what to expect. Based on an obscure self-published comic called Baby Blaster…" Richards stopped while the room broke into applause. "Because of Baby Blaster," he continued after the noise died down, "we decided to take on Ian Castle. Baby Blaster, particularly from a merchandising standpoint, was more profitable than we could have imagined. In her first Christmas, she made more in sales than any of the action figures of mainstream superheroes. Even at Dark Force, we couldn't have dreamed how successful the next character created by Ian with an assist from his wife Fleur would become. Youngsters and adults everywhere eat Riton rice bowls and drink Riton shakes. Children cuddle Riton plush toys on five continents, and Riton comics and cartoons have been translated into 40 languages. The launch of this DVD represents only the latest triumph for our brave dorlis and his creators Ian and Fleur Clary-Castle." Mack scanned the faces in the room and gestured toward the table where Ian and Fleur sat. "Could you stand please to receive the ovation you deserve?"

Ian looked at Fleur, who nodded. With a hand under her elbow, he helped her rise from her seat. The room erupted in sound. Ian helped Fleur back into her chair as the din died away. "I see another creative force from our dynamic duo will soon be making an entrance into the world," Mack observed, before continuing his speech on the anticipated sales for the DVD and future Riton comic books, cartoons and merchandise.

Ian's brows lowered, and he raked a hand through his characteristically uncooperative hair. "It wasn't necessary for Mack to mention the baby. How pregnant you are, isn't really the concern of this crowd. Most of them seem more interested in his business forecast anyway. You can practically see the dollar signs in their eyes. I may use that look in a character in my next story."

Fleur shifted uncomfortably in her chair, putting a hand on her belly. "But I think Mack may be right about Olympe being about to make an appearance. I just felt a contraction, and it wasn't like a Braxton Hicks."

Ian felt his breath force its way from his chest. He was really going to be a father.

.


	83. Chapter 83

Ian 2

Chapter 83

As soon as their cab was on it's way to the hospital, Ian pulled out his phone. "Who are you calling?" Fleur asked, unsuccessfully trying to find a comfortable position.

"My dad. He can let everyone in the loft know what's going on."

Wouldn't it be better to call Kate or my parents?" Fleur wondered. "Your father gets a little - _exité_."

"You'd be surprised. My dad's always been very calm in an emergency. I think it's because of taking care of my mother and everything he went through with me. That's one of the reasons Kate was able to depend on him as a partner. He just gets excited when he tells a story later. He can bring everyone and stop at the new apartment on the way to the hospital to pick up your bag. Both he and Kate have the entry code."

"What about Amelia?"

"My parents might be able to get Mrs. Mays to stay with her. It's pretty short notice. But Amelia thinks hospitals are wonderful. She thinks of the doctors and nurses as the people who helped my father when he was shot - like they did in the improv she did with the Imps."

" _C'est bon_. I remember a room the nurse showed us when our birthing class took a tour of the maternity floor. I think it is for the other children of mothers giving birth. There was a place to play and little sleeping mats. If Amelia comes with the family, she'll be safe there."

"Right," Ian agreed, as long as someone tells her what is happening. My sister likes to know everything."

" _Oui_. She loves to learn. Already, her French is _pas mal,_ and I think I've heard her use a few words of Spanish."

"She got those from Sesame Street and the signs in the subway. My grandmother says that Amelia has a genius for memorizing lines, too. Of course, Grandma would think that, but my sister does pick things up very fast. It makes it harder to put things over on her too. My dad tried really hard to keep her believing in Santa Claus, but the minute she saw that the beard on a Santa she visited at a store uptown was as phony as the props the Imps use, it was all over."

" _Dommage_." Fleur winced.

Ian put a hand on her belly. "The contractions are getting closer together. Do they hurt more?"

Fleur nodded. " _Un peu_."

Ian leaned forward in his seat. "Driver, get us there in the next 10 minutes, and there's an extra hundred in it for you."

"You sound like your papa," Fleur observed.

Ian squeezed her hand. "Good."

* * *

As much as she loved Mrs. Mays, Amelia wanted no part of staying at the loft while everyone else went to the hospital. She was determined to see her new niece as soon as she came into the world. Everyone from Castle's loft climbed into Castle's Mercedes sedan and even with stopping to pick up Fleur's things, made it to the hospital before Fleur was fully checked in. Martha arrived a few minutes later. As they waited, Ian came to tell them that it was expected to be hours before the baby arrived and said that if they wanted to leave for a while, he could call them with progress reports. The family would be allowed to visit, but the hospital's routine to prepare Fleur for giving birth had made her feel very exposed. She wanted him to be the only one with her until she became more used to the invasive monitoring. Kate and Jacqueline both nodded their understanding, but no one, especially not Amelia, wanted to be anywhere but at the hospital. Pulling his daughter into his lap, Castle suggested that everyone settle in.

* * *

In between Fleur's contractions, Ian sketched on a pad the family had brought from the Clary-Castle apartment along with Fleur's go-bag. "You'd better not be drawing me," Fleur warned as a monitor tracked her contractions as well as the baby's heartbeat.

"Why not? You're beautiful," Ian replied, "but no, I'm not. I'm drawing what I'm imagining Olympe will look like. I got pretty good at drawing babies when Amelia was born, but Amelia looks like Kate, with a little of Dad thrown in. I picture Olympe as looking like you, hopefully without too much of me."

"I hope her eyes light up the way yours do," Fleur said. "And notice everything the way you do."

"I want them to look like yours, with dark depths that hold dreams and promises. And I want her to have your smile. Mine tilts up to one side."

Fleur drew in a deep breath and slowly breathed it out as another contraction came on. She relaxed as the tightness eased. "Your smile is _très charmant_ , but I'm hoping she doesn't have your feet."

Ian gazed down at his size 14 dress shoes. "They would look kind of funny on a baby. Ooh, that gives me an idea! His hand made quick strokes over the page to reveal a baby with huge feet kicking an evil looking attacker, as a giant "Oof!" erupted from the villain's mouth. He turned his sketchbook around, so Fleur could see what he'd created. "Another character for the Dark Force youth line. Her name is Footsie Toughsie. She kicks the heck out of bad guys. She could even team up with Baby Blaster. And she could have a shoe collection like Kate's only a bigger size. Each pair of shoes would have something special about it like reflecting light into a villain's eyes or springy soles to help her jump up and kick villains in the face."

"Being a strong kicker would give her something in common with Olympe," Fleur offered. "but wouldn't mean children make fun of her feet?"

"Not twice," Ian responded. "but you know, talking about teasing…" He stopped as another contraction held Fleur in its grip. He watched her face to see the tension release before he continued. "I should come up with a character that copes with teasing and bullying for the pictures-only books I've been putting together for RFTS. I know what it's like to go through that. A lot of the kids thought I was stupid because I couldn't read and picked on me."

"You're not stupid. You are _très intelligent_!" Fleur protested.

I learned I wasn't dumb like they said. Dad told me, and so did my teachers. Dad helped me come up with some cool answers to things the kids said, too. But I had to learn how just to walk away. That was hard. But after a while, I understood that they called me stupid because they thought they were stupid themselves, and they needed to think I was even dumber to make themselves feel better. That made it easier. Sometimes I even felt sorry for them."

"And you think you can put those emotions in pictures?" Fleur asked.

"For me, it's easier than putting them into words."

Fleur squeezed the circulation out of Ian's hand as the next contraction hit. "I think Olympe may be coming faster than the doctor thought."

Ian pressed the button to call the nurse.

* * *

What are you doing, Mother? Castle asked.

"I'm calling Sheila Blaine. Ian is her grandson too, and she has a right to be told that her great-granddaughter is about to make her entrance."

Castle shook his head. "I don't know. This should be a joyful time. And the way Sheila feels about Fleur…"

"We can keep her away from Fleur if we need to, but she should still be told," Martha insisted.

* * *

Sheila Blaine walked into the room where the Castle clan and the Clarys were gathered, as Fleur held her newborn daughter. Sheila hadn't expected to feel love for the child whose latte face was topped by a pink cap. She hadn't even expected to like her. But as she stared at the tiny girl, she couldn't imagine a baby - except for Kyra - looking that beautiful. Her tight lips turned unaccustomedly upward. "She is perfect."

Finis - for now.

A/N Ian's saga could go on forever but the ficathon will not, and I have other stories to write. By request, the next one will be My Bloody Valentine, inspired by a posting by Artifex Prime. I can always bring Ian back. He and Fleur have much ahead of them, as do Rick, Kate, Amelia, and Olympe.


End file.
